


Am-Badass-Ador McClain

by Ebhenah



Series: Am-Badass-Ador [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adam discussed, Adoption, Allura discussed, Allura's gift, Amputation, Atlas - Freeform, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Discussion of Grief and Mourning, Domestic Bliss, Emotional Roller Coaster, F/F, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Gay Shiro (Voltron), Getting Together, Hospitals, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Lance and Veronica are close, Langst, Lesbian Veronica (Voltron), Loss of Limbs, M/M, Moving On, Mutual Pining, New Job, Oblivious Lance (Voltron), POV Lance (Voltron), Panic Attacks, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Post-Canon, Protective Shiro (Voltron), Recovery, Scars, Shance Love Bang 2020, Sharing a Bed, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shiro didn't retire, Slow Burn, Surgery, Trauma, Whump, Yearning, background hunay, background jaith, background veracxa, background zezor, cyber-leg, extended hospitalization, life on the atlas, loss of Shiro's arm explained, oblivious Shiro, responsible alcohol use, responsible medication use, serious injury, shance, wedding mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 82,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23980561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ebhenah/pseuds/Ebhenah
Summary: Years after Allura's death and Lance's return to the farm, he finally accepts Coran's offer of becoming an official Ambassador for Altea He and Shiro have gotten closer after Allura's death and he joins Shiro, and his sister Veronica on the Atlas as a non-combatant Coalition Delegate, where the three of them spend a lot of time together off-duty.While he is on the Atlas, they get called in to intervene in a conflict on a Coalition planet with a lingering splinter cell of Zarkon loyalists. Non-combatant he may well be, but Lance cannot stand by and let people die when he could be helping! Dspite protests, he gears up and hops into a shuttle to provide cover fire. During the fighting he is seriously injured, needing intensive medical intervention.While he recovers, he and Shiro grow even closer until they realize that what they have is so much more than friendship.CW- this fic deals with Lance's recovery from extensive injuries and is told from his point of view. There is a lot of medical content, intense emotions, and depiction of processing trauma- some of which predates the incidents in the story.
Relationships: Acxa & Lance (Voltron), Acxa/Veronica (Voltron), Coran & Voltron Paladins, Hunk/Shay (Voltron), James Griffin & Lance (Voltron), James Griffin/Keith (Voltron), Lance & Ezor, Lance & Kosmo, Lance & Krolia, Lance & Lance's Family (Voltron), Lance & OCs, Lance & Voltron Paladins, Lance/Shiro (Voltron), MFE Pilots & Voltron Paladins, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Am-Badass-Ador [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809400
Comments: 95
Kudos: 150





	1. Catchphrase

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Shance Love Bang](https://shancebang2020.tumblr.com/) with amazing art by the wonderful [Seki](https://twitter.com/rustdustshuffle) that can be found [Here](https://twitter.com/rustdustshuffle/status/1260185151029436416?s=20)!
> 
> Big thanks to both [Punk](https://twitter.com/PunkInGlitter) and [Hexworthy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hexworthy/works) for being my betas on this monster fic... it was a lot more work than anyone expected it to be!
> 
> My apologies for being so very late on this. I was supposed to write 20k... this is... like four times that. Oops.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance arrives on the Atlas for his first official posting as Ambassador to New Altea.

Docking on the Atlas felt strange- simultaneously familiar and brand new. The Altean ship Lance was using was as different from the Lions as one could get, and he was in a communal hangar designed to house the ships of intergalactic delegates- which he was- instead of Red’s massive bay- which had probably been repurposed years ago. But it was still Shiro’s ship and it was still Veronica’s voice over the comms.

It was still the Atlas.

He watched as the particle barrier blinked into being, signalling that it was safe to breach his airlock. As he stood, he felt a surge of jitters. New job nerves, he reminded himself, perfectly normal. He smoothed out the creases in his uniform jacket and used the camera on his handheld like a mirror to make sure that he wouldn’t embarrass New Altea before he even got settled into his quarters. Satisfied that his new uniform was up to snuff, he activated the hover feature on his luggage and triggered the doors that would release him into the guest hangar.

He was alone on the flight deck, his steps echoing strangely off the metal and ceramics. Thankfully, he was assigned a docking slot close to the access to the main body of the ship, because after what he’d seen as a Paladin, he knew from experience that large empty sections of space-faring ships tended to get real creepy, real fast. He’d never really trusted airlocks after almost getting sucked out of one.

Sure enough, as soon as the door slid open, he was greeted by an overeager crew member. The snap of the salute was textbook perfect and he couldn’t help but smile. This woman looked like she was twelve! The baby-faced crew member nodded sharply, “welcome aboard the Atlas, Ambassador McClain! I’m Ensign Kym and I’ve been assigned to you for the duration of your stay with us. If you have any questions about the ship, please do not hesitate to ask.”

“Take a breath, Ensign Kym,” he said good-naturedly, “I don’t bite… and I’m not nearly as hard to please as my sister. Just, show me where to stow my crap and bring me to the Bridge and I’ll be golden. Promise.”

“Yes, Sir,” Ensign Kym nodded, gesturing for Lance to follow her. “You’ve been placed in quarters near the Captain and Executive Officer McClain.”

“How near?” he asked, trying to get the Ensign to relax a little, because if she was assigned to him, she needed to be comfortable around him. “Like- are they gonna come yell at me if I play my music too loud?”

She stopped walking, her face the very image of shock as she blustered and fumbled with her words, “it’s not- I can… umm… I think… well… I cannot imagine either of them doing that! Uhh… Sir!”

Lance laughed, “I promise you, they both have! More than once! At one point, Shiro had an entire vocabulary that was just… my name said with varying degrees of irritation or disappointment. But… that was a long, long time ago.”

“When you were a Paladin?” she asked, voice soft and slightly awed.

“Mmmhmm. We both were. He was in Black, I was in Blue- loud-mouthed seventeen year old kid with fancy wheels.”

“I thought… weren’t you the Red Paladin?”

“By the time we got back here, I was,” he explained, “but I started out in Blue. Hunk in Yellow, Pidge in Green, Keith in Red, and Shiro in Black… then Keith moved to Black, I was in Red and… uh… Allura… She… Princess Allura flew Blue.”

“I was just a kid. Pretty much everything I know about Voltron is from the show.”

“The show?!?” Lance stopped dead in his tracks, laughter bubbling through him, “oh wow- the show is way, way off! Don’t worry, before I leave, you’ll hear all the best stories about Voltron. Behind the scenes true facts that will blow your mind!”

* * *

By the time Lance got a tour of his ‘new’ quarters (they were the same ones he was given the last time he’d called the Atlas his temporary home), stowed his luggage and was escorted to the Bridge, both Shiro and Veronica had done whatever they needed to do to be able to leave the crew to it for a while. It was all formal welcomes and titles and protocol until they were safely ensconced in the ‘Captain’s Ready Room’ with the door shut behind him. Then his sister was crushing him in a hug.

“Look at you!” she cooed, shaking him softly, “my baby brother! Ambassador for New Altea! So fancy! Lemme see the new uniform!”

He lurched backwards as she shifted from the hug to shoving him back so she could see him. His uniform still felt strange to him. So close to what he always pictured Coran wearing, he still caught himself doing double takes whenever he passed a reflective surface. It wasn’t quite the same, the Alteans from the colony had different clothing trends than Alfor’s court had and the new official garments were a blending of the two. His experience with Altean clothing had been pretty limited, but despite the high collars and gold braiding, his official Ambassador threads were just as comfortable as the undersuit of the Paladin armor had been.

“ _Veronica_ ,” he groaned in the patented and universal ‘annoyed baby brother’ voice as he rolled his eyes and fought the proud grin that would give him away. He loved that she was so excited for him. Loved that she was pumped to be working together again. Her excitement was contagious and it had done more than he wanted to admit to help him keep nerves and doubts at bay when he’d accepted Coran’s offer.

“You look like an actual grown-up,” she teased, “when did that happen?”

“By my math, he’s been an adult for, what… ten years now?” Shiro observed mildly.

“That depends entirely on how you are counting,” Lance answered. “If you are ignoring the time jump and just going by birthdates, it’s been eleven years. If you are like _some people_ ,” he glared at Veronica, “and claim that the three years we jumped _don’t count_ just because we weren’t present for them, it’s been eight.”

“Uh-huh,” Veronica rolled her eyes at him, “I would like to remind everyone present that Mr. My-Birthdate-Is-My-Birthdate here conveniently dropped from twenty-four to twenty-one real fast because he was terrified of twink death.”

“What!?! Ruuuude!” He shoved her shoulder playfully, “twink death isn’t even a thing! I just… wanted to relive my youth a bit, that’s all.”

“Lance always did have a gift for exploiting loopholes,” Shiro laughed, finally wedging himself between the siblings to give Lance one of those hand-clasp-back-pat-hugs of his. It was familiar and grounding and any lingering nervousness that Lance had about the new job evaporated. There were few people he was closer to than Shiro and Veronica. They had his back and they had total confidence in his ability to do this.

He was really here. In space. On the Atlas. Working with his childhood hero and friend again. Working with his sister again. Spreading Allura’s message as an official representative of her people in the Coalition she started and built. It wasn’t Voltron, but in many ways, it was better. He wasn’t fighting a war. He was helping them _heal_ some of the damage done by millenia of conflict.

“There’s an official event tonight to welcome you aboard,” Veronica was saying as she poured the three of them drinks, “not a dinner. Just a cocktail reception. You’ll meet the highest ranking officers on board, some of the other Coalition Delegates.”

“Lots of familiar faces,” Shiro added, “Sam and Colleen, the original MFE Pilots, some of the original bridge crew and tech-heads, Acxa, a few others. You’ll do fine… Ambassador McClain.”

“You didn’t pronounce that right, Shiro. It’s Am- _Badass_ -ador McClain. Say it with me: Am-Badass-ador McClain.” Grinning he accepted the glass from his sister.

“Are you serious right now?”

“Hell yeah! Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to break that out?? C’mon… I know you appreciate a good pun, Captain Shirogane! Remember that New Year’s party where you kept drunkenly calling Keith your bro-gane?? Because I remember that weak ass joke.”

“That doesn’t sound like a joke I’d mak-”

“That is abso-fucking-lutely a joke you would make, Shiro, and you know it. So don’t even try,” Veronica cut in, laughing. “You’d make that joke _sober_!”

“Umm… _helllo??_ ” Lance waved his hand in front of Veronica’s face, “back to the matter at hand, please? What’s my title?”

She sighed, and he could watch her give in in the way her eyes slowly dulled. “Am-badass-ador McClain,” she dead-panned.

“Nice! Thank-you big sis! Your turn, Cap’n! C’mon… you know you wanna…”

Shiro looked at him, those gentle grey eyes skimming over his face (which was frozen in an expectant and overdone grin, like a comedian waiting for the punchline) and relented. “Am-badass-ador McClain.” Shaking his head, he waggled a finger at Lance, “you’re spoiled, you know that? Sometimes it is so obvious that you are the baby of your family!”

“You meant to say favorite, but that’s okay.” Sipping his drink, he nudged Veronica, “he meant to say it was obvious that I’m the favorite.”

“Clearly,” Veronica answered, rolling her eyes at him and hiding her smile behind her own drink. He’d known her his whole life, he was wise to her ways.

“How are the quarters?” Shiro asked, “there was some debate about whether you’d want them or a fresh start…”

“They’re good,” he answered, smiling reassuringly, “really. The quarters are all so cookie cutter on ships like this that I think it would be weirder to be in different ones that look the same, you know? And the mirror ones are like hers… This is good. It was the right call.”

“You’re sure? Because we can shuffle-”

“Shiro, I’m sure. They’re good. I’m already unpacked. Don’t make me pack my shit up now! I hate packing! Veronica, tell him!”

“It’s true, he hates it,” Veronica confirmed. “He always wants to bring every single thing he owns, and he’s a fucking packrat, so he owns a lot of shit. You should have seen the weird shit he’d tote around in his backpack as a kid. Rocks! Literal rocks! Back and forth to school with-”

“Yeah yeah yeah- I think he gets the point, Vero!” He shoved her playfully, “which is: I’m perfectly happy with my quarters and do not want to switch. In fact, I’m officially inviting you both over for poker night tomorrow after shift. We’ll need a fourth, though. Any suggestions?”

“We could invite Slav,” Veronica mused, eyes glinting. Lance didn’t miss the way Shiro’s jaw clenched. “Be interesting to see how he approached poker.”

“I think there are better options,” Shiro said mildly, as if he was totally cool with the idea of spending an evening with Slav _for fun_. “What about Nadia?”

“She’s on opposite shifts than us for the next cycle. Ina, too. Ryan might be available, though. Or James.”

“Oooh! Griffin! He’s got the worst poker face I’ve ever seen other than Hunk! Yeah, invite him.”

“Do not start off your new job by fleecing the Commander of the MFEs, Lance,” Veronica warned.

“Oh, I won't, I promise. I’m just going to bankrupt Keith’s boyfriend,” he grinned, “it’ll be fun.”

“He won’t take too kindly to being called ‘Keith’s boyfriend’ like that,” Shiro chuckled. “Not that I blame him- James Griffin is a highly decorated officer.”

“Listen,” Lance rolled his eyes, “you seem to forget that I was _in their flight class_. I had a front row seat to the two of them being bullheaded assholes. I had to talk Hunk down from a near panic attack after they got into a fucking fist fight. Then I had to watch the weirdly awkward courting ritual of the Edge-Lord Samurai and Rulesy McBlowhard. The more he hates it, the more I’m gonna refer to him as ‘Keith’s boyfriend’. I’ve fucking _earned it_ , understood?”

“I swear to God, Lance, if you alienate James…”

“He won’t,” Shiro sighed, “your brother has a rare gift of knowing how to push someone to their absolute limit for annoyance without crossing over into unforgivable territory.”

“Awww,” he rested his hand over his heart and sighed, then blew Shiro a kiss, “you know me so well!”

“Just don’t come crying to me if your mouth breaks your own nose,” his sister warned him.

He gasped dramatically, “no one is breaking my nose! That’s not even funny!”

“Mmhmm… don’t come crying to me. That’s all I’m saying.”

“I can’t believe you! You’re my big sister! You’re supposed to have my back.”

“Hold on, aren’t you the one who is always crowing about your sniper skills? All the fancy schmancy combat training you got as a Paladin? Is this your way of saying you can’t take care of yourself and you need me to protect you like when you were four and picking fights with kids twice your size?”

“I didn’t say _that_!”

“I’m pretty sure you did, Lance,” chuckled Shiro.

“Having my back isn’t the same as fighting my battles for m- oh you know what? I’m not getting sucked into this! Just… poker night. My place. Let’s just leave it at that.” Eyes flashing, he planted one hand on his hip and glared at the both of them as he finished off his drink.

“Sounds good,” Shiro said easily, his lips quirking in the barest of smiles.

“Yeah. Poker night could be fun,” agreed Veronica, nodding like that whole fiasco hadn’t happened.

It was good to be back.

* * *

Being on board the Atlas made it very easy to develop a routine. The entire ship ran with military precision and it created a kind of rhythm that drew people in. Within two weeks, Lance’s life ran like clockwork. He started his day with a work-out. He, Veronica, Shiro, and Giles, one of the Alteans on board did circuit training together- cheering each other on and spotting one another.

Breakfast followed that, and then his work day was occupied with meetings, vid-conferences and research. At one point, he’d thought Ambassador work was nothing but fluff and schmoozing, but now that he actually had the position, he knew better. He had a whole new respect for Coran after a few days on the job. The level of studying he needed to do to ensure that he understood the history and cultures of the various delegates and representatives that he had to interact with was absolutely mind-boggling!

He’d never spent so much time with his nose buried in books in his life! It was so worth it though, and Veronica made sure he didn’t get too caught up in his work. As soon as her own shift was over, she swung by his office, and they spent an hour on the range, or sparring before eating together in the mess hall. His evenings were a mix of socializing with people on the Atlas- ranging from old friends to newly arrived Ambassadors from other planets in the coalition; catching up on correspondence; or indulging in one of his many hobbies.

It was a good kind of predictable. A good kind of exhausting, too. When Coran had first suggested this work to him, he’d thought he was joking. Then he thought it would be nothing but charming aliens. Once he’d gotten a clearer view of his responsibilities, he’d genuinely worried that he wouldn’t be able to do the job justice. There was a lot of pressure representing New Altea in his role as “Legacy Bearer”. At least once a day he caught himself wondering if Allura would agree with his decisions, with how he approached various challenges.

But, he was good at it. Genuinely good. It was a lot of work, a lot of learning, but it was also rewarding. He liked people, in a general sense, and he knew how important it was to treat new cultures with respectful curiosity. His outgoing nature and open-mindedness worked in his favor, and sure the history and political study was intense, but he was a better student than most people realised.

It was so gratifying to be working to heal some of the scars left by the war he’d fought. So rewarding to make sure that Allura’s legacy didn’t end with battles but with co-operation and rebuilding. Sure, sometimes it felt like the Atlas held ghosts of his younger years, but that wasn’t automatically a _bad_ thing. It was nice, sometimes, to feel like he might run into Allura around the next turn. It didn’t hurt anymore. It hadn’t hurt in a long time. He missed her, he probably always would to some extent, but the things that used to feel like the universe taunting him with knowing she was part of everything but out of reach, only made him feel close to her now.

Time really did fly when you were busy doing something you loved and before he knew it, they were celebrating the halfway mark of their journey. Six months on board the Atlas, in his official capacity with hardly any skirmishes from lingering Zarkon Loyalists, or rogue splinter groups who weren’t receptive to the presence of the Coalition. He never would have thought that half a year in space could be so peaceful and _safe_.

Six months.

Five planetary visits.

Four Atlas-hosted diplomatic envoys.

Three newly signed trade agreements.

Two hilarious visits from high ranking Blade of Marmora members who knew him as a Paladin and had no idea how to react to him now. God, it had been a hoot to see Kolivan stumble over his titles. He probably shouldn’t have enjoyed that so much- but in his defence, he’d seen Shiro hide a laugh at least three times in response to Kolivan calling him ‘Paladambassador’. It was funny stuff.

One very proud Coran projected on the holoscreen in the midst of the Atlas ballroom offering a toast at the celebration- who was currently recounting a story about Lance teaching him to surf on New Altea and using it as a metaphor for rising to challenges… or something. Lance had had a little too much champagne to fully focus on a Coran story.

“You’re looking pretty chuffed,” Giles whispered as he sidled up to him and handed over a fresh glass of champagne.

“Well, I’m supposed to right now,” he pointed out, “given that I’m the one being toasted.”

“True,” he laughed, “you coming to the afterparty down in Joodum Sector? We’ve got juniberry cider!”

“Ooh,” he cringed slightly, “the last time I had a run in with juniberry cider at one of the Joodum Sector parties, I almost ended up in Laris’ bed and that would have been a _bad_ scene!”

“I dunno… you could do worse than Laris. Laris is very attractive.”

“Laris is gorgeous. It’s not about that. I’m just not wired for casual stuff anymore, and Laris is alll about the casual stuff. Not a good fit.” He shrugged, “besides- pretty sure there is going to be a Voltron reunion at Shiro’s after this. Keith, and Hunk are both arriving at some point this evening. I’d be shocked if we don’t end up getting Pidge on a vid-call and spending the night hanging out.”

“Voltron was so long ago, though,” Giles sighed, “I don’t get it. But if you get bored, you know how to find us.”

“Head to Joodum Sector, then follow the music. I know how to find a party, Giles.” He winked and then nodded at the screen where Coran seemed to be wrapping up.

Sure enough, he laughed, blotting at his eyes and holding his glass aloft on the holoscreen. “To Ambassador McClain!”

“To Ambassador McClain,” the guests echoed and they all raised their glasses, turning to face him.

“Thank-you,” he replied, voice loud and clear, “it’s been my honor to join all the talented and hardworking people here on the Atlas. To my gracious hosts!”

Everyone drank, and with a quick, friendly squeeze to his forearm, Giles slipped away to flirt with one of the Blades that had joined the party. Once upon a time, Lance would have been right at his side, trying to charm a pretty alien or two. Now though, Lance knew better. The risk of offending someone, or committing some kind of slight or social faux pas was just too big, the stakes if he did so far too high to make it worth the effort.

He’d still flirt, of course. Weirdly, that was part of his job now. But it wouldn’t be serious, it wouldn’t lead to anything scandalous.

Once upon a time he’d be drinking with a purpose, but now he knew how to pace himself. He knew how to take part in the endless toasts and always have a drink in his hand without crossing the line from tipsy into drunk. Now, these parties, as pleasant as they were, were just as much about work as they were about fun. He’d come a long way since that first party on Arus… that had introduced him to Nunville and ended with an explosion and facing off against Sendak.

As usual, any thought of that particular Galra led to him scanning the crowd for Shiro. Without fail, he needed to see Shiro with his own eyes before that little tremor of worry would settle down. He was acutely aware that the overwhelming majority of the Galra were good people who just happened to be on the opposite side of the conflict than he had been. He knew how powerful Zarkon had been, how pervasive his propaganda machines had been, how entrenched his ideals had become in a population that had been fed lies for generations. Most Galra were, like Keith said, a proud and honorable people.

Sendak was not. According to Coran, he’d been a good man before the destruction of Daibazaal. By the time they’d crossed paths with him, though, he’d been thoroughly twisted by Haggar and Zarkon. So corroded by millennia of violence and hatred that there was no trace of that man left. Lance would never forget the look in Shiro’s eyes whenever Sendak was even _mentioned_. It wasn’t often that he felt _protective_ of his old friend, but thoughts of Sendak was a surefire way to do it.

Shiro, of course, was fine. He was standing on a dias, looking like a recruitment ad in his dress uniform, talking to James and a tall Mirulean that Lance was pretty sure was named Klapchek (a name that admittedly stuck in his memory for very juvenile reasons). This particular round of accolades and toasts and speeches seemed to be over. The band started up again, playing a song he recognized as being Puigian in origin. The Atlas had a shockingly good band, who performed a wide range of songs from all over the coalition. Especially since it was almost entirely made up of hobbyist musicians.

Enough time had passed since he’d seen combat that his reflexes had relaxed a little. So, thankfully, when he felt the hand at his hip, his first instinct was _not_ to flip the person that was touching him without warning.

“Hey, pointy-chin,” a familiar voice said, “what’s a girl gotta do to get a dance with an old friend?”

“Romelle!” He twisted toward her, grinning like a fool. She gave a little jump, catching him in a hug that he happily returned. “Oh, I’ve missed you!”

“I’ve missed you, too! It’s been too long!” She released him and stepped back, giving him a once over. “You look like something from a children’s book in that uniform! Soooo old-fashioned. Dashing, but old-fashioned. Very handsome!”

She was in a gown, which he’d never seen before. Her hair was twisted into several long ropes that were then pinned into bow-shapes starting at her temple and following her hair line, with tiny, shimmering jewels and small purple blossoms tucked artfully among them. Her dress was strapless, the color of the sparkling bodice and wide, floaty skirt shifting from a delicate pink to powder blue and every shade between them as she moved. “You’re one to talk! You look beautiful, Romelle! Like a fairy princess!”

“Awww, thank-you!” She didn’t blush- he’d never seen any of the Alteans from the colony blush, it seemed to be a trait that had vanished over the years- but the marks on her cheeks glowed softly. “Hunk and Shay will be here later, there was some paperwork they wanted to deal with. I suspect I was pouting about missing the party so they let me leave early. I do love big fancy parties!”

“Well, this definitely fits. It is very big and very fancy!” On impulse, he hugged her again, “have you said hi to anyone else yet?”

She shook her head, “Shiro and Veronica looked busy… and I want to dance, soooo…”

He laughed, “ah, I see how it is. Well then, you came to the right person.” He took her hand and dipped into a deep, courtly bow, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, “Romelle, would you kindly honor me with a dance?”

“Oooh charming,” she cooed, “of course I will!” Lacing her fingers with his own, she followed him to the dancefloor. “So, do you actually know this dance, or are we freestyling?”

“Freestyling?” He shook his head, settling his hand on her hip. “Hunk’s rubbing off on you! But, relax, Coran made sure I was well-versed in all sorts of dances. Including a Puigian Quarterflounce.”

“Wonderful! It’s one of my favorites.”

“Well, in that case, let’s show them how it’s done, shall we?” Without waiting for her response, he tugged her close, leading her into the first form.

Honestly, the Puigian Quarterflounce was one of his favorites, too. It reminded him a little of a paso doble from Earth, with its almost aggressive pacing and alternating open and closed steps.

The paso doble was a representation of a bull fight, and the Puigian Quarterflounce had a similar origin. It was a story dance divided into four distinct ‘quarters’ with different pacing and steps. The dance brought to life an old folktale about a brave warrior who faced a monster similar to a dragon to protect her people. According to the myth, the monster was so entranced by her grace and strength that it tamed his wild heart and transformed him, revealing that he’d been a Prince, under a curse the whole time.

It seemed like every culture had some version of the beauty and the beast fairytale. Redemption through love was a universal message.

So, the portion of the dance known as ‘the battle’, started with a lot of quick movements and intensity. There were quite a few spins and hold changes, pulling apart and coming back together- all representing the fight. Mid-song, that conflict shifted, the dance moving into its second quarter: the taming. This part was slower, showcasing more measured holds that were reminiscent of grappling and submission holds, with the female partner taking the lead.

As the climax of the music approached, they moved into the third quarter of the dance: the metamorphosis. Lance let Romelle push him backwards over her bent knee and they spun away from each other, moving in a slow circle from several feet apart, almost like the fight was about to resume. That was the part of the story where the monster transformed. He held his right hand out first, she knocked it away, sending him into a heel spin that ended with his left hand out and him craning toward her. She accepted that hand, stretching away and then spinning back into his embrace, and bringing them into the final act of the dance- the lovers.

Pressed close together, they glided around the dance floor, their movements in perfect concert. One thing he loved about it was that instead of clasped hands and hip/shoulder holds, this section of the dance had their left arms curled above their heads with the fingers laced together and their right hands cupping each others’ faces. There was something about the hold that conveyed so much intimacy and passion without resorting to bump and grind sexiness… and without being super awkward for a couple of friends enjoying a dance together.

The dance was a bit of a floor hog, but luckily, the dance floor wasn’t all that crowded, and most of the people using it were familiar with the Quarterflounce. With the exception of the transformation sequence, which was designed to be able to intersect with other performers, all the dancing pairs could easily avoid one another. The few couples that were, as Romelle put it, ‘freestyling it’ stayed on the outer edges of the dancefloor.

The song ended with Romelle holding him in a deep dip. A few of the guests applauded the band and the dancers as he regained his footing and she clutched his hand. “That was fun, but I really need a drink!”

“Drinks are an excellent idea. Champagne? Nunville? Water?”

She wrinkled her nose, “champagne tastes like bubbly fungus and nunville is nasty. Hunk makes this thing that is soo yummy! It’s pink and it tastes… kind of like those frozen treats on a stick you got for us that time in Cuba?”

“I think I know what you are talking about,” he chuckled, weaving through the crown with her, “or at least, I know of something close. Let’s see if the bar has the stuff to make you a pink lady.”

Romelle ended up drinking some frothy blue thing that smelled like cheese and bacon but tasted kinda like sour candies. It messed with his head too much to have more than a single sip, but she seemed to love them.

“Sooooo,” she crooned after a couple of the drinks. Her purple eyes were a tad unfocused, which really should have clued him in that she was about to make absolutely no sense. “I gotta ask… your sister.”

“You gotta ask my sister… what?” he coaxed.

Her blonde eyebrows drew together in confusion and her whole face scrunched up as she sucked on the straw in her drink, thinking. “Oh!” The confusion vanished in an instant and she slapped his shoulder, nearly knocking him down. He would never get used to Altean strength. At least Allura had been a trained fighter. Romelle looked like she was made out of spun sugar and eider down. You just didn’t expect that kind of power from her shoulder-swats. “Nooooo,” she laughed, “not ask your sister! Ask **you**!”

“Ask me what?” Her mouth clapped shut midway through her laugh, as she gathered her thoughts.

“Ask you… ask you… **about** your sister!” She beamed at him, “these drinks are yummy, I should get more…”

“I think you should hold off on more for a bit, maybe wait to have one with Hunk and Keith when they get here?”

“Ooooh… yeah! Good idea, Lance! You got smart!”

“Uhhh… thank-you? I guess? Pretty sure I’ve always been this smart, but… yeah, we’ll go with that. What did you want to ask me about Veronica?”

“Not Verommikle, the other sister… Rah… Roh… something like rocks, but not…”

Damn, those drinks hit like a mack truck! Mental note to make sure Romelle did a better job pacing herself! “You mean Rachel?”

“Yes! Rachel! She’s pretty… you ever think… sometimes… she… Oh! It’s Shiro!” She set her empty glass down and grabbed him by the wrist, dragging him across the room. “Shiro! Hi! Hi, Shiro!”

After that, the night was mostly a blur. Not that he’d followed Romelle’s example and overindulged at the bar or anything. It was simply that Hunk and Shay had arrived shortly after Romelle had cornered Shiro. Then Veronica and Acxa had joined them and they all settled into seats at one of the larger tables that was already occupied by Rivazi (he could never get used to calling her Nadia. Nadia was his niece and it just felt too _weird_ , so she’d be Rivazi forever as far as he was concerned). Then Keith had shown up with James on his arm, and Ryan and Ina trailing along behind them. With so many old friends reuniting, the reminiscing got pretty intense. Stories that they all knew got shared, everyone talking over each other to add their own perspectives or crack an inside joke, and once that started, time just… flew.

There were more trips to the dancefloor, but none as structured as the dance with Romelle. They had another four rounds of speeches and toasts. Lance was not the only planetary diplomat on board the Atlas, and each of them were honored over the course of the evening. He’d gotten to know almost all of them pretty well in the months they’d been working together. Some of them had even become good friends. It was nice to see all their hard work get recognized.

Their own little cluster of friends split up when they left the party. Lance, Hunk, and Keith accepted Shiro’s invitation to hang out in his quarters and give Pidge a call (exactly as Lance had predicted to Giles- Shiro was a creature of habit). Shay had bowed out of any socializing in favor of grabbing a few extra hours of sleep. James and the other MFE pilots had opted to tag along with Romelle and check out the party in Joodum Sector. Veronica and Acxa were clearly looking forward to some alone time- which he tried not to think about too much. He and Veronica had leaned on each other so much when they were each figuring out their sexuality that it had fostered a very close bond. They were unusually open about their love lives, which meant that he was very aware of just how much she’d been looking forward to Acxa’s return. He just preferred to keep that knowledge as abstract as he could.

Shiro’s quarters were nice, but they weren’t exactly roomy. Space was always at a premium on any kind of ship, even for the Captain. Initially, Lance had just taken a seat on the floor while the others squished onto the couch to call Pidge, but she’d grumbled so much about only being able to see the top of his head that Shiro and Hunk had each grabbed an arm and hoisted him up. He’d ended up sitting half on Hunk’s lap and half on Shiro’s- which was much more comfortable than it sounded.

As usual, Pidge was working. Her attention was split between some kind of logic error in the code she was writing, and regaling them all with the ten ways Matt almost burned the lab down over the past week. Lance was pretty sure that at least half of Pidge’s ‘Matt explodes shit’ stories were _actually_ about her, but he had no way to prove that and he liked his life the way it was, so he knew better than to state that opinion out loud.

“Told’ja you wouldn’t be able to top me for a work husband,” Hunk teased her when she grumbled about how Matt didn’t understand her ‘system’ and would try to tidy up her desk.

“This again?” She flipped up the protective visor she was wearing (even though she was just writing code… which seemed pretty safe to Lance) to roll her eyes at them, “that’s not even a thing. That whole ‘work wife’ and ‘work husband’ thing you talk about? It’s not a thing.”

“It’s _totally_ a thing,” he argued, “like… okay.. Me and Shay are together, and I’m super happy about that, but at work? Romelle is my work wife. It’s just the way it is.”

“That’s a you thing, Hunk,” she insisted, “not an everyone thing. Keith! Tell’im!”

“No can do,” Keith laughed, “Acxa is definitely my work wife.”

“You are asking _Keith_?!?!” Hunk roared with laughter, “that’s rich! Lance was the original work spouse! Are you forgetting when Keith first took over in Black? The only reason anything got accomplished was because Lance could make him see sense!”

“Hey!” Keith reached across the back of the couch to smack Hunk playfully, “that’s a bit of an exaggeration!”

“I mean,” giggled Lance, “he’s not _wrong_ you were an angry ball of chaos at first, Mullet.”

“I was the one who _didn’t_ want the job, if you recall,” pointed out Keith with a huff.

“You and Lance always did balance each other out well when you weren’t arguing,” Shiro reflected. He was aiming for mild and sage, but Lance could hear the smirk in his voice, so he knew he was mainly trying to give Keith a hard time.

“That’s because they share a brain cell, Shiro,” teased Pidge, “it makes sense that it’s more functional when they are working together.”

“Harsh!” Lance covered his heart and flinched like she’d inflicted an actual wound. “Ever think that maybe I’m just a kickass second in command? Huh?”

“You’re right Lance… I have thought that before… remember that time I had that crazy high fever?”

“You are so lucky you are on a vidscreen, Pidgeon!” He threatened, fighting not to laugh at her antics.

“Still not buying the whole work spouse thing,” she insisted. “Shiro! Back me up.”

“Are you _nuts_?!?!” Lance laughed, “oh my God you have obviously been slacking off with the visiting if you don’t know that Shiro and my sister are an old fucking married couple at work!”

“It’s not that bad,” protested Shiro.

Shaking his head, Lance twisted to stare at Shiro, “how much did you _drink_ tonight?? Without Roni you’d forget to eat lunch! The two of you finish each other’s sentences. You can do that whole ‘conversation without words’ thing. You know how to keep her from getting too caught up in making contingency plans.”

“We don’t need more than five contingency plans,” sighed Shiro, shaking his head, “five is plenty!”

“I know, man,” Lance soothed, shifting so he could pat Shiro on the back. “I know. Five is more than enough.”

“See? She’s his work wife,” Hunk sounded so proud of himself. “It’s a thing. You just don’t want it to be a thing because you’ve got a crappy work _sibling_ instead of the awesome work hubby you had on the Castleship!”

“And whose fault is that?” Pidge demanded, “you know you’ve got a standing job offer with us! All you have to do is say the word and you can be on the cutting edge of tech again…”

“I know, I know… but I really _like_ what I’m doing now.” They fell into one of those conversations that had been repeated so many times that it was basically a script. The mock squabble had the others laughing fondly. Even after years, some things never changed and it was reassuring that Hunk and Pidge’s unique friendship was one of those unchanging things.

To Lance, it almost felt like he could close his eyes and time travel back to the Castle of Lions. Without meaning to, he let his eyes shut, let his mind wander, let his attention drift.

He could so clearly remember all of it. The faint hum of the Castleship, the scent of the Altean cleaners they used, the familiar voices bickering over next steps in some project. All of them piled together on a couch to try to decipher some random Altean entertainment program that Coran or Allura recommended. The faint buzzing in the back of his mind that was his connection to his Lion.

He wondered if the others felt that _silence_ the way he did. Like it was a hole in his head… or a dead pixel on a computer screen. Most of the time not even noticed, until you thought about it, and then it was distractingly _absent_. He wondered if the bond Shiro had with the Atlas felt the same as a Lion bond did.

Giles had, more than once, expressed his confusion about why the other Paladins were still so important to him. Lance was pretty sure that most people felt the same way. It didn’t match up with the way other people interacted after so much time. Even the ‘bonds of war’ didn’t really explain it.

It was deeper than that.

It was… that no one else could relate to the experience of being bonded to a sentient robot Lion.

It was… that no one else understood what it felt like to be completely surrounded by aliens except for each other.

It was… that no one else knew how surreal it was to step into some kind of epic sci fi movie and have it be your life. Like Alice in Wonderland, but in space... during a very real war.

It was… that no one else knew Allura the way they had. As a complex and real person, not just a figurehead and a symbol for a lost race.

It was… all of those things, but it was also Voltron itself.

Forming Voltron had taken a special kind of trust, and when they did, there was a psychic link. No one else would ever, _could ever_ know him the way that these four people did. There was no way he could explain that to anyone else.

It had been years since the Lions left, but he was sure that they were still linked to some extent. That connection, it lingered, even without the Lions, even without Voltron. The words didn’t exist that would allow him to explain that to anyone else, but he knew he wasn’t the only one that felt it. He could _tell_ just by the way that they all seemed to breathe just a little easier the more of them that were together.

Before he’d taken this job, he’d almost convinced himself that he was remembering things through the forgiving haze of nostalgia. He’d started to believe that the bond between them was no different than the one the MFEs shared. That it was just the result of depending on each other to keep one another alive, of living together on the Castleship, of shared trauma, shared _loss_.

Once he’d been on the Atlas for a few days, he knew that he’d been wrong about that. He and Shiro had an awareness of each other that Lance recognized. He felt the same _knowing_ with Hunk and with Keith. It had been a long time since he and Pidge had been in the same room, but he was sure it would be the same with her.

Being around them made that little, empty, silent spot that used to be occupied by Blue and later Red, smaller somehow. The more of them that were together, the smaller it was… and the safer Lance felt.

So, he let himself relax and just soak up the rare opportunity to hang out with them outside of their annual memorial dinners on New Altea. He loved those dinners, but they were mostly about remembering her… this was different. Despite Hunk teasing Pidge about how well they worked together back then, this was just hanging out- being themselves as they were _now_ , not how they _used to be_.

They weren’t scared kids thrown together by fate and surrounded by violence anymore. They were all adults, all on their own paths that diverged more than they intersected, but they remained important to each other. It was nice… better than nice.

He was barely tracking the conversation anymore. Keith was telling some kind of story about his work with the Blades, the others chiming in to make jokes or ask questions. It didn’t matter what _exactly_ was being said. Just hearing their voices, relaxed and happy, was comforting.

He didn’t even open his eyes when he heard Pidge say goodbye, addressing him specifically. He just gave her a little wave and told her he loved her. Keith didn’t even get words when he said he had to head out. Lance just gave him a thumbs up that turned into a half-hearted finger gun. He smiled fondly when he heard Keith laugh.

Back then, he hardly ever laughed.

Lance wasn’t sure if it was because he found his mother, or because the work he was doing made him feel good about himself, or because of his relationship with James, or if it was a combination of things, but Keith laughed more now. His friend was happy and that made Lance happy.

They were all amazing people and they all deserved to be happy.

“... out like a light… I can help…”

“Shhhh… nah, s’okay…”

“... sure?” A large hand settled on his head, smoothing his hair back. It felt nice and he mumbled out a thank-you, the words heavy and sluggish. He heard quiet laughter as he was jostled, an arm holding him steady against a warm, solid chest, the quiet thumping of a heartbeat in his ear.

When he woke, it was the way he was used to. The lights on the Atlas brightened and dimmed to mimic day and night. He’d been living on a farm for most of his life, and that false dawn was usually all he needed to wake up. He had a back-up alarm, just in case, but usually, he shut it off before it had a chance to go off.

So, he didn’t immediately register that anything was different… and then it took another moment to figure out _what_ exactly was… off.

He wasn’t in his bed.

He wasn’t even in his _quarters_!

Blearily, he lifted his head, only to almost get knocked to the floor when the body he was curled up _on_ shifted and moved. One beefy arm curled around him to pull the fuzzy blanket higher, the motion effectively pinning him. As sleep receded, memories began to fill themselves in.

Shiro’s.

He was at Shiro’s place.

He must have dozed off while they were talking to Pidge.

Okay, that explained why he’d crashed on Shiro’s _couch_... it didn’t do much to explain why he’d conked out on _Shiro_!

Poor Shiro, too.

From the look of it, he’d fallen asleep sitting up, his head hanging back over the frame of the couch, and then… kind of… pitched over a little during the night. The way he was twisted and bent couldn’t be comfortable! He was definitely going to have a crick in his neck when he woke up.

On top of that, the poor guy was still in his dress uniform. Unlike Altean fabric, which was some kind of miracle fiber, Lance knew from experience that Garrison uniforms did _not_ make comfortable sleepwear.

Why hadn’t Shiro just woken him? If not to send him off on the very short journey to his own quarters, then at least to let Shiro up?!?

It just didn’t make any sense!

Yeah, time to fix this mess. Thankfully, Lance knew that Shiro wasn’t expected on the bridge today. The Atlas was almost autonomous when they were in open space, Shiro didn’t actually have to be manning the Bridge unless they were in contested territory, travelling near enough to planets to be impacted by their gravitational pull, or otherwise expected to need quick decision making or combat abilities.

Currently, they were hosting so many people who had arrived with security details that the Atlas was at the center of enough smaller, armed ships that they’d reminded Lance of an asteroid field. None of the small splinter groups that didn’t like the changes since Allura’s sacrifice would stand a chance against so many armed ships, with so many unique weapons and disparate tactics. It would be beyond foolish, and those groups had only managed to stick around this long by being very smart in how they engaged the coalition.

The odds that Shiro was going to get called to the bridge unexpectedly were pretty much nil, which was good, because there was no way he’d gotten any decent rest. It took more persistence than he expected to free himself from the blanket and Shiro’s hold on him, but he managed. Shockingly, he felt more rested than he had in ages. Was it because he’d fallen asleep in a room full of Paladins?

He really hoped that it wasn’t because he slept better with someone else in the bed, because… honestly, that wasn’t really something he could see becoming the norm anytime in the foreseeable future. He was focused on work, and he’d long ago figured out that despite his flirty nature, he wasn’t cut out for casual flings. The few he’d had over the years had been pretty disastrous. Surprisingly, it turned out, Lance McClain was made out of one hundred percent pure boyfriend material.

Shiro grumbled in his sleep, patting at his chest where Lance had been using it as a pillow (and hopefully not drooling, that would be bad). Lance figured he was registering the lack of body heat and pulled the blanket a little higher. It seemed to work, the adorably scrunched up face of his friend relaxing back into peaceful slumber.

He’d gotten very familiar with Shiro’s quarters over the last six months. Several times a week he and Veronica had dinner with him here, and it was common for them to just hang out in one another’s quarters during downtime. So, he knew exactly where to find the pain meds he was sure Shiro was going to end up needing, and where the linen closet was. He returned to the couch with a proper pillow, another blanket, a glass of water and the bottle of pills… and stalled out.

Shiro was a big guy, and not exactly the heaviest sleeper in the world. How precisely was he supposed to get the guy properly horizontal without waking him?

It took longer than he cared to admit (because he had to move him like, an inch, then wait for his breathing to settle down again before moving him another inch) but eventually, Lance was able to maneuver Shiro into something that looked like a comfortable sleeping position. Once he was actually lying down, he curled around the pillow, hugging it tight to his chest and snuggled down into the two blankets. It was completely endearing and Lance had to resist the impulse to take a picture, because it wasn’t often that Shiro was _cute_.

Handsome? Sure.

Commanding? Absolutely.

Distractingly _hot_? Without a doubt. (Lance worked out with the guy every damn morning and after six months he was well aware that Takashi Shirogane was dangerously sexy when he was pushing himself at the gym, all flushed and sweaty and breathing hard. It was… just… impossible _not_ to notice that.)

But _cute_? That was rare… and apparently, sleeping Shiro was downright adorable.  
  


He made sure that the water and the pills were easily spotted on the coffee table and manually dimmed the lights so that Shiro could get some proper rest, and then he ducked out of his quarters… and ran smack dab into his sister and Acxa... sneaking out of Shiro’s quarters... in last night’s clothes.

Shit.

It _totally_ looked like this was ‘a walk of shame’ situation.

“Good morning, Lance!” Veronica smiled like the cat that ate the canary, and leaned into her girlfriend’s side, “what did I tell you, mi luna?”

Acxa smiled in that shy way she did whenever Veronica called her that and looked him up and down. Her nostrils flared slightly and she shook her head, “I suspect there is a completely innocent explanation for this, Jewel.”

“Nice to know _someone_ has some faith in me,” Lance muttered.

“He doesn’t smell like sex,” she explained, prompting Veronica to snicker.

“I fell asleep on the couch!” he yelped, for some reason Acxa’s bluntness, and the casual way that Galrans, in general, referred to information gleaned from their acute sense of smell, always managed to fluster him. “Also- I would like to know what, exactly, my sister told you that would relate to _this_ situation!”

“We were just coming to get Shiro for our morning work-out,” Veronica said, completely ignoring everything he just said.

“You weren’t at home,” explained Acxa, “and your sister predicted that you were here.”

Right. Because she knew they’d all headed back here to call Pidge. He kicked himself mentally for thinking that his sister had assumed the worst. “Yeah, I guess I conked out before Keith and Hunk left. Last thing I remember is… Hunk talking about how he was the best work husband, I think? I feel like there was stuff after that… Keith telling a story or something? I dunno, it’s all kinda fuzzy. Shiro’s still asleep, we should let him sleep in for a change.”

“What is a work husband?” Acxa asked as they moved away from Shiro’s door towards Lance’s quarters- presumably so he could grab his workout gear.

“You know how you and Keith interact when you are in the field? He’s your work husband. It’s just… a term to describe someone you work really well with and rely on.”

“Ahhhh,” Acxa nodded, “we have a term for that, too… Vyran’chi. It translates to ‘battle mate’.”

“That sounds way more badass than work wife,” grumbled Veronica as she laced her fingers with Acxa’s.

“You really want to be referred to as Shiro’s ‘battle mate’?” Lance was incredulous.

Veronica made a face, “ugh- actually, you’re right. That… conjures… images… that… _nope!_ Uh-uh, I’m way too fucking gay for that. Work wife is fine. I can live with work wife.”

He chuckled, “pretty sure Shiro is ‘way too fucking gay for that’, too… so I’d say you guys are in agreement there.”

“You have a point. One of the Mirulean delegates was flirting with him last night and I’ve never seen him look so panicked. She wasn’t even being pushy about it, just… kinda coy and obviously inviting.”

He didn’t know why he found that so surprising, Shiro was an extremely attractive man. He probably got flirted with all the time. Still, it left a bad taste in his mouth… especially the way Veronica said he was ‘panicked’ because of it. “When was this?”

“Just before Keith arrived,” she answered easily, “I remember because once I saw him, I knew you were on board and excused myself.”

“Impatient to see me Jewel?” Acxa asked, her voice tender, “that’s so sweet.”

“Hold up- Shiro was quote ‘panicked’ and you just abandoned him to deal with this chick because you realised your girlfriend was on board the Atlas?” He was irritated now, Veronica was supposed to be Shiro’s _friend_ dammit! Friends didn’t bail on friends at times like that!

“Abandoned is a bit harsh, Lance,” she tsked, “Shiro’s a grown man, he can deal with some light flirting from someone he’s not interested in. Besides, you know Keith made a beeline to him, so he was only alone for like two minutes.”

“Do I?” He demanded, “do I know that? Are you forgetting that James was at the party, too? Keith and Shiro are close, but not like they used to be.” They reached his quarters and he triggered the door, practically stomping into his living room, the two women following behind him. “I can’t believe you! Even if Keith _was_ for sure headed over to say hi to Shiro and not looking for James _first_ , you knew he was uncomfortable and you could have waited the ‘two minutes’ for Keith to get there before you vanished.”

“Are you… seriously mad about this?”

“I’m not mad!” He snapped, “I’m… annoyed… on behalf of my friend.”

“You seem a lot more angry than annoyed,” Acxa interjected mildly, “do you think Shiro is incapable of discouraging an unwanted suitor?”

“Incapa- No! Of course not!” He took a breath, trying to keep from flying off the handle, “he just shouldn’t _have to_... and I don’t get why you don’t see that! He never would have done that to _you_ , Veronica.”

“Okay, okay,” Veronica held her hands out, like she was trying to herd him or something. “You’re right. He never would have left me in that situation. I’ll talk to him. Today. Okay? I’ll apologize.”

“Good!” He closed his eyes, waiting for his breathing to settle. She had said she’d apologize, so he should start calming down now… right? He wasn’t though. His hackles were up and he was still irritated, although it wasn’t as bad as it had been. After a moment, he opened them again, “I really need to work-out. Gimme a minute to change my clothes and brush my teeth. I’ll shower after.”

* * *

Hunk, Shay, and Romelle were only on board for two days before they had to leave. Not nearly enough time as far as Lance was concerned, but he knew how busy they were. In the early days of the coalition, Hunk had been assigned to the Atlas, but Lance had been on the farm back then, dealing with his grief.

Now, Hunk’s particular brand of diplomacy had its own ship, with its own roster of high ranking coalition members, diplomats, and emissaries. It was entirely possible that after his tour with the Atlas, Lance might be assigned to the Bahamut and be working with them, the way he was working with Shiro and Veronica.

It was a good thing that the coalition had grown so much that they needed more than one ship to do this work. Lance found himself reciting that reminder often. He missed his friends, but they were doing good, important work… and really, they were never more than a vid-call away.

Keith and Acxa, and along with them, Ezor and Zethrid, on the other hand, stuck around for a few weeks. Their presence meant major shifts in Lance’s routine. He wasn’t complaining, he liked having Keith around, and he liked seeing Veronica so happy… he even liked Acxa, Ezor, and Zethrid. Mostly. It had been harder to trust Ezor and Zethrid than it was to trust Acxa, and he was a few years behind the others in terms of working with them. But, he got there eventually.

Veronica bowed out of their poker nights in favor of spending time with her girlfriend. Completely understandable, and Keith slipped into her spot effortlessly, since Griffin had become one of the regulars. It did mean that Lance lost more often, because Keith’s poker face was… un-fucking-real… but that was okay. He could deal with losing some money for the sake of a fun evening with friends.

It also meant more evenings of just him and Shiro hanging out, because it really felt like everyone else they knew had paired off. Giles had started dating Ina… which really just messed with Lance’s head, because… some couples just didn’t make sense to him, and that was one of them. But, hey, they seemed happy enough, so more power to them.

Again, it’s not like he was _complaining_ about it. Shiro was awesome to hang out with! They played pool in the recreation room, or watched movies, or dared each other to try unfamiliar dishes from the alien menus- even discovering a few new favorites in the process. They were more likely to find activities in the common areas of the ship when it was just the two of them than when Veronica was around. Other people even commented on it, and on how nice it was to see the Captain taking a break for a change.

So, yeah, not complaining. It was more that he’d gotten used to one routine and then just as he’d settled into a new one, they were seeing them off again. Veronica was stone-faced and professional as she helped load luggage and supplies onto the smaller ship. Lance suspected she’d be showing up at his quarters with a couple of bottles of wine that night, though. She never showed any sign of it in public, but he knew it bothered her that Acxa’s work meant seeking out the areas of contention and providing support and protection for coalition settlements that were at risk from Zarkon Loyalists. It was hard to send a loved one into danger.

He got that.

Hell, Keith and his team were just his friends and he hated doing it.

Shiro was going to be a wreck.

He made a mental note to invite Shiro over ‘as moral support for Veronica’. (Because there was no way Shiro would admit that he needed the support just as much.) Keith was the closest thing Shiro had to family. It didn’t matter how grown-up and capable Keith was, Shiro was going to worry about him.

He wondered how many times they’d all had to do this for the packing of that ship to have taken on this level of coordination. The way they passed cargo back and forth and wove around each looked like it had been choreographed. He’d quickly figured out that his help was more of a hindrance than anything else. A discordant note in an otherwise expertly crafted piece of music.

So he hung back and he watched them work. Within a few minutes of him finding a good spot to lean, Kosmo joined him. He’d been idly chatting at Keith’s space wolf ever since. Lance had always been someone who talked to animals. He’d never really thought much of it. He’d grown up on a farm and it felt _weird_ to him to be silent as he worked with the animals, so he’d gotten into the habit of thinking out loud, or carrying on one-sided conversations with them when he was around animals.

Kosmo was different though. He seemed eerily aware of what was being said around him. Lance suspected that he was far more aware and intelligent than most people gave him credit for being. But then, for all Lance knew, the space wolf couldn’t understand a word of spoken language but was psychic or something. After meeting mermaids and ending up in a weird game show that time, he was pretty much open to anything being possible.

“I know I don’t have to tell you to protect them,” he said softly, scratching Kosmo behind the ear. The massive wolf crowded closer, letting out a little huff and craning up into Lance’s hand. Grinning at him, Lance made sure no one was looking and dug out the bacon from breakfast that he’d saved for Kosmo, offering it up. “But, if you keep’em safe there’s more of that waiting for you next time I see you. Maybe even a steak if Keith is his usual reckless self.”

Although, to be fair, either Acxa, Ezor, and Zethrid’s healthy sense of self-preservation had rubbed off on the hothead, or being with James had done him some good. Lance couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard a new story of Keith being dangerously heroic.

Shit.

He was going to have to invite Griffin over that evening, too.

Kosmo lapped the last remnants of bacon grease off his palm, those spooky eyes of his peering up at Lance with uncanny intelligence. “Yeah, yeah… fine. I’ll keep an eye on Boy Band, too. For you. You better appreciate this. He’s not exactly my favorite person in the universe. Too… rulesy. That’s why he’s not here right now. You know that, right?”

His grumbling was mostly just tradition. A hold over from flight class days. Over the years, James had gotten less… prissy. Having _actual_ responsibility had been good for him… and yes, there was that whole thing where James had tried to disobey orders to help Veronica before Voltron had gotten to Earth. He wasn’t so petty that he didn’t appreciate that. To be perfectly honest, he didn’t really have any issue with the guy currently. He’d bitch and trash talk and shit, but it didn’t have any real teeth.

Yeah.

He definitely was going to be hosting sad poker with wine tonight.

Fuck.

The good-byes took less time than he expected. One minute he saw Keith slap the side of his ship like it was a sale model on a used car lot, and it seemed like the next, he was getting one of those hand-clasp-back-slap-hugs that Keith had one hundred percent picked up from Shiro at some point. “I’d feel better if I was the one on your six,” he’d said, grinning, “but… you know… your little squad of lesbians are pretty decent, too.”

Keith laughed, shaking his head, “don’t let them hear you call them that! As far as they’re concerned, I’m the tag-along!”

“Well, we both know they are just putting up with you because no Keith means no Kosmo.”

He rolled his eyes, his smile faltering a little. “Hey, do me a favor-”

“You don’t even have to ask. I’m already planning poker night. I got this.” He gave a small, confident smile.

Keith studied his face for a minute then nodded, “thanks. This shouldn’t take long. We’ll secure the settlement and meet up with you soon.”

He gave Kosmo one last ear scratch for good measure, and then it was time to clear the hangar. Much like on the day of his arrival, Ensign Kym was waiting for him, this time with a datapad full of his commitments for the day. He nodded his good-byes to Shiro and Veronica while Ensign Kym was giving him a rundown of the various messages he’d missed while he’d been seeing the others off.

The rest of the morning was a blur of returned messages, and trying to figure out appropriate gifts to send to the Kythran Ambassador, whose mate had just laid a clutch of eggs. Gift giving was a mine-field of potential faux pas and slights. Just one of the unexpected challenges of the job.

He ended up deciding to take lunch in his quarters and reach out to Coran for suggestions… because he was _stumped_. Halfway through the vid-call, the signal dropped. He’d been about to check in with Veronica to see if there was an issue when the alarms started.

He slammed his hand down on the com-link built into his coffee table so fast it stung. “Bridge! Status update?”

“Ambassador McClain! We’re getting reports of fighting on the surface with orbital support. We are sending troop and MFE support now.”

Fighting on the surface with orbital support… Keith had landed smack dab in the middle of that mess… or a trap. _Fuck!_

Looked like that small group of Zarkon Loyalists were more of a threat than the intel led them to believe.

“Do we have a status update from the…” Shit. What was the actual name of Keith’s ship? Something Galran… the… uh… Zemdi? No! It sounded like sardine! “From the Zar’dyn?”

“Nothing since the initial mayday, Mr. Ambassador.”

He was sure he said _something_ to end the conversation, because otherwise, the com-link would still be glowing and it wasn’t. He had no memory of it, but he knew it had to happen.

_Nothing since the initial mayday…_

That didn’t automatically mean anything bad. They were in the middle of a firefight. Updates to the Atlas would be low priority unless things went really well, or really badly.

Keith was solid in a fight. He’d been doing this for a long time.

Acxa had been doing it even longer.

Zethrid was formidable in her own right, and when she had Ezor with her they were even better.

Kosmo was with them. If things went bad, he’d get them out of there.

The Atlas was sending reinforcements. They had help on the way.

They were strong fighters and there was help on the way.

Lance bounced on the balls of his feet. Some things never changed. The bustle and rush of people clamoring to get into their combat gear, get their weapons, make it to the troop deployment shuttles was all comfortingly familiar. What wasn’t familiar was the lack of Red’s sparking presence in the back of his mind pushing him to hurryhurryhurry, the absence of his bayard hanging at his hip or ready in his hand. Standing there felt wrong.

Doing nothing felt… wrong.

He chewed his lip, glancing at the door. He’d kept up his training. His sniper scores were still top level. His hand to hand combat was… probably better than it had been when he’d been flying Blue, to be honest. He was in shape, he had the skills, and he had combat experience. Technically, Ambassador was a military rank on New Altea… even though he was recorded in the Atlas’ logs as a non-combatant.

Technically…

He was moving before he was even aware of it, yanking open the emergency locker at the foot of his bed and hauling on a depressurization suit. It wasn’t Paladin armor, but it was rated for both open space and planetary atmospheres, it contained a rudimentary biomed system, and it was at least somewhat armored. It would do for a sniper.

He was out the door in record time.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to hop in with the troops, but he’d flown his own ship from New Altea to rendezvous with the Atlas… and stowed safely within it were firearms that would work just fine for his purposes. Veering away from the crowd, he detoured through the hydroponics wing and skidded to a halt at the guest hanger doors.

It had only been a few hours since he’d been here, feeding Kosmo bacon and planning sad poker for that evening.

Punching his access code into the panel, he grinned as the doors slid open.

He was powering up his ship when his radio crackled to life. “Lance!”

“Greetings Captain Shirogane, please prepare for my launch in… mmmm looks like ten ticks.” He triggered the security harness, settling his weight back into the seat. His skin tingled, heart racing in his chest.

“Lance! Get out of there!”

“Ambassador McClain, please,” he answered, feeling the little shake that told him he’d lifted off the floor of the hangar. “Launching in four, three…”

“Quiznak!” The particle barrier flickered out of sight and he surged forward.

“You are a non-combatant, McClain,” Shiro growled in his ear, fury competing with panic in his voice. “Get back here! That’s an order!”

Two Galra fighters broke out of orbit and he swerved, blasting off five shots in quick succession as his little ship rolled through space. "Yeah, well, I dunno what to tell you Shiro, other than you are aren't my commanding officer and I just took out two of those little Galra firebugs, so I'm pretty obviously a combatant and there's gotta be some kind of typo in the official records."

“I cannot believe you, Lance!”

“Believe it… I can help, so I’m going to help. I’ve got this. I’m going to find a nice high perch and provide cover for our people. I’ll stay out of the fray, I promise, but I’m not coming back on board the Atlas!” He adjusted his trajectory, “shit! Shiro, you’ve got incoming… “

“I see them! On it,” the anger had bled out of his voice, replaced with calm resolve. “This conversation isn’t over, Lance… be careful out there.”

“Will do! I look forward to you yelling at me when I get back- it’ll be just like old times!”

“Lance!” This time it was his sister on the line and the brittle tone of her voice told him more than anything else. He could tell that she was trying her damnedest to sound calm and firm… and it wasn’t working. Things were bad on the surface. She was scared. His fearless big sister was _scared_. It felt so wrong. “What do you think you are doing?”

“I’m helping,” he said evenly, veering out of friendly fire range. There were so many more MFEs than he was used to, but he knew their flight patterns, so he could at least stay out of their way. “I’m going to the surface. I’ll find them, and I’ll cover them. It’s what I do best. Okay? Veronica? I got this… I’ll make sure they come home.”

"Lance Manuel Andres Ignacio Fergus McClain! You get back on this ship _right now!_ ”

“Oof… Even the _Scottish_ middle name? You must be pissed!” He pulled up his nav systems, “send me their last known coordinates. I’ll be safer if I’m not searching blind. Veronica, they’re family. You can’t go, so I am.”

“I swear to God if you make me tell Mami that you died, I’ll resurrect you just to kill you myself. Got it?”

“Copy that,” he quipped, smiling as his nav screen lit up, a little purple light blinking on the surface. Altean lettering he could barely read scrolled over the screen and then there was a small jolt as the computers calculated the safest trajectory for him to breach the atmosphere.

The Galra ships were the same ones he used to fight in his Lions. Small and agile, individually they didn’t pose a major threat to a ship like the Atlas… or even to the MFEs. They always reminded Lance of wasps. One was a nuisance. Its sting _hurt_ but for most people a wasp sting wasn’t much to worry about. The danger came when you got _swarmed_. Get enough wasps in one spot, all working to do damage and suddenly that nuisance became a palpable and lethal threat.

So, the real issue with the Galra ships came from their numbers. There had been times where it felt like fighting a hydra- cut off one head only to have three more sprout in its place. He had no idea how the coalition intel could have missed a fleet of this size, but that was a puzzle for other people to solve. Currently, Lance needed to focus on the swarm of Galra ships, and the dozen or so coalition ships that were zipping around him, weapons blazing.

Friendly fire was a very real thing.

His own ship was more modern than the little Galra ships, and it had weapons but it wasn’t _designed_ to be a fighter and he’d never even run combat sims with its specs. The best thing he could do was exactly what he’d told Veronica and Shiro he was going to do- get to the surface, find their people, and lay down cover. He just needed to get through this chaos first.

It was the most challenging piloting he’d ever done, but he managed to clear the fighting and enter the atmosphere at a safe trajectory. His ship shuddered and rattled around him, the computer-guided controls needing a lot of human support to keep it from tipping in one direction or the other. The yoke fought his grip, bucking against him with a force that surprised him. It took a lot more strength than he anticipated, but he managed.

Once the atmosphere reached a specific density, the ship switched flight mechanisms. There was a jolt as the propulsion thrusters shut down and the afterburning turbofans kicked in. The rattling stopped and the yoke eased in his hands- the bucking replaced by a soft vibration that reminded him of an outboard motor on a boat.

According to his nav systems, the Zar’dyn was just inside the perimeter of the northernmost settlement, which was in a valley. Most of the newer settlements followed a pretty specific initial layout, and given what they’d _thought_ the situation was, Lance figured that they were near the supplies depot and security hub.

Prime targets.

Ordinarily, that wouldn’t be much of a concern, but from the look of the readings he was getting, the particle barrier had been compromised somehow because there was no trace of it.

“Hailing the Zar’dyn.” No harm in at least _trying_ to get them on comms. “Repeat. This is the Wimbledon hailing the Zar’dyn. Do you read?”

Nothing.

Shit.

“Keith! Acxa! This is Lance- can you hear me?”

Still nothing.

Motherfucking quiznak!

Okay… He took a breath. It wasn’t automatically _bad_ it just meant that they either couldn’t hear the comms, or they couldn’t answer. Like, if they were not on the ship.

So, the next step was… He racked his brain for the protocol. The next step was to see if he could ping the Marmora suits themselves! All coalition ships had the ability to send a signal to Marmora suits within a set range with a short message and an ID code. He wouldn’t get any information _back_ unless they chose to respond. It reminded him a little of those old pager things people used on Earth before mobile phones were a thing. It only took a few seconds to send the ping using the preset message options.

<Cover incoming. Status?>

He was almost there. Chewing on his lip he sent up a silent prayer that he wasn’t too late. God, if he was too late…

<Pinned down. Ship grounded. No crew injuries. Civilian status unknown.>

<Proceed w/caution Sharpshooter>

Keith. That was Keith testing to make sure it was really him flying the Wimbledon. He knew exactly how to respond.

<Hang tight Samurai>

Coordinates followed, two sets. The first was their location, and the second was where Keith wanted Lance to target. Inside the atmosphere like this, he was limited to projectiles only. When it came to a ship’s weaponry, energy based firepower did _bad_ things everywhere except open space. So, he had a finite supply of ammunition, but he could definitely do some damage.

He pulled up the targeting interface and shook the tension out of his arms, one at a time. He wove through the mountains that bracketed the settlement. Once he got a visual on the situation he cringed. They’d _seriously_ underestimated the size of the ‘splinter group’ that had been targeting this settlement! He was going to need back-up, so he toggled his com-link, “hailing the Atlas. This is the Wimbledon hailing the Atlas.”

“This is the Atlas. We hear you, Wimbledon.” The voice was familiar, but he didn’t know it well enough to recognize it with his attention split like this. “What is your status?”

“The crew of the Zar’dyn are unhurt. Particle barrier is down. I need support.”

He cleared the mountain and veered away from the vulnerable settlement, toward the wall of Galra ground transports that were closing in on them. It looked like something out of a post-apocalyptic movie. The transports were old and obviously patched and pieced together from salvage… but there were a _lot_ of them.

“Ground troop drop ships are en route to your location.”

“Awesome, but if you could spare an MFE or two, that would be great. I don’t have enough ordnance to take out all these vehicles.”

He passed directly over them, laying down a strafe of heavy fire. It was clear that they didn’t expect in-atmosphere aerial support, because they hadn’t prepared for projectiles. The large caliber rounds tore through the patchwork vehicles easily. Several of them just flat out _blew up_ , and quite a few more were smoking or in flames.

“We’ve got two MFEs on the way, Lance. Wait for the support!” That had been Veronica.

“I’ve got another pass… maybe two… then I’m going to land by the radio tower on the eastern cliff and start dealing with the smaller targets.” He silenced his comms, not needing to hear Veronica call him impossible and not wanting her to hear the gunfire. Then he banked hard, readying himself with a slow, steady breath, and doubled back.

This was so different from fighting in a Lion. He couldn’t say he was a fan, but he was very glad that he’d made the decision to come. Every second counted in situations like this and without him relaying the information to the Atlas, there was no telling how long the settlement would have been left without protection… How long their friends would have been sitting ducks. The four of them were some of the most badass fighters he’d ever encountered, but… he refused to think about what might have happened here without him going a bit rogue.

This time around the Galra were expecting the spray of bullets, many of them shooting at him with their handheld blasters. He took some damage, but it seemed to be mostly superficial. Ships designed to carry ‘high value personnel’ like Ambassadors tended to be pretty well protected, and he was just barely in range for handheld weapons.

He did a fair to middling amount of damage, more vehicles seemed to be out of commission, and the advancing line had halted, now scrambling to salvage what they could and regroup.

He’d bought them some much needed time and he was low on ammunition, so he decided not to do a third pass. If he needed to bug out before the fighting died down, he was going to need some kind of firepower until he got out of range.

Tapping his screens, he toggled his comms again. “Heading to make my nest. Sending you the exact coordinates. Tell your guys to try not to shoot me.”

“Copy that, Ambassador McClain. Go be great… and Lance? Stay safe out there.” That was Shiro. Veronica must be fit to be tied if Shiro had taken over the conversation.

“I’ll do my best, Captain Shirogane.”

It didn’t take him long to land his ship, setting it down on the same ledge that housed the radio tower that allowed the settlement below to get signals past the inhibiting mountain range with enough strength to communicate off-planet.

His initial plan had been to set up on the ground, but the layout of the settlement was such that the roof of the warehouse blocked his shots at oncoming Galra except at the very limits of his range. His bayard probably would have unlocked some kind of new form in this situation, but he didn’t have his bayard. He had an Altean sniper rifle, and a close quarters weapon designed for suppression fire.

This place was dry.

Still.

It reminded him of the desert surrounding the Garrison- except that the stone and the dust were a dull green color shot through with bursts of iridescent pinks and blues. The sun was bright and high in the sky, which was good for targeting because it meant fewer shadows and that he wasn’t trying to shoot into the light. Unfortunately, because of the warehouse, he needed a higher vantage point, which left him with three options.

Option one- find a higher cliff.

That would take too long and mean having to send updated coordinates and hope that the MFEs that were en route got the new info before taking him out. So, no.

Option two- climb the radio tower and rig up some kind of sniper’s nest in the scaffolding.

Again, time consuming. Plus there was the exertion of climbing in the heat, and the challenge of finding a workable position. Not ideal.

Option three- climb on top of his ship.

It wouldn’t give him a huge change in his targeting angle, but it might be enough to make it workable. It was faster, but there was no chance of shade and if the Galra had any weapons that could reach him, he’d be lying on top of their first target.

Sighing, he shouldered the strapping of the weapons and grabbed the upper lip of the frame of the hatch. He hoisted himself up with a grunt, scrabbling up onto the roof of the Wimbledon.

Now that he was closer, he tried hailing Keith again, this time using the comms built into the depressurization suit, but with no success.

Shit.

Okay. Okay. Things would be easier if he could talk to them, but to do his job, he didn’t _need_ to. He just needed to hang tight and pick off anything that got too close to the settlement… and try not to think too much about the fact that these were people in his crosshairs and not droids. God, he never thought he’d miss the seemingly endless supply of Galra droids in a fight, but here he was.

“Atlas I’m in position. I have good visibility and am ready to do my thing. Tell those MFEs not to dawdle or they might miss the party.”

“I’ll let them know. Switching to a private line,” Shiro’s voice was clipped. Lance had heard Shiro mid-firefight enough to recognize the tone, the slightly different cadence to his words. There was a little click in his ear that told him that his words were not being broadcast to the entire bridge crew anymore. “Once they get there, you haul ass back to Atlas, Lance. You are a high ranking _non-combatant_ asset. Do you have any idea how _bad_ it would be for you to end up captured by Zarkon Loyalists?”

“Pffft… I haven’t been captured by anyone in _years_ , relax!” He adjusted the scope on his rifle. A lot of sniper work was just… waiting. It didn’t seem like it would be a good fit for someone with as much energy as him, but complacency was a serious risk and his endless curiosity and racing thoughts seemed to help him stay alert. “I mean, I barely even remember what handcuffs feel like.”

“Lannnce,” Shiro groaned. Lance grinned. For the first time since he’d hit the atmosphere, this felt familiar. Good.

He had his eyes focused through a scope watching an alien landscape. His finger on the trigger of a sniper rifle. Providing cover for Keith, who’d ended up in some kind of impossible predicament… and Shiro was exasperated with him over comms. It was almost like old times.

Almost.

That little silent spot in his mind seemed bigger than ever. He missed Red… missed a lot… but that was okay. His life was different now, but it was good. It was really good.

“What? Facts are facts. I spent a really unfair amount of time in handcuffs for somebody who hadn’t filled out like a _stack_ of consent forms at a really exclusive club. Unfair!”

The Galra had regrouped and the vehicles that were still functional were on the move. They were definitely former military. Lance could tell by the tight cohesion of the advance. Most of the vehicles were moving at the exact same rate, no one breaking out ahead of anyone else and making a target of themselves, no one burning fuel at a faster pace than their neighbors. A cloud of shimmery green dust billowed behind them, giving Lance a plethora of information about how the air was moving down there.

He didn’t even really think about the calculations anymore. Time, practice, and the specific way his brain was wired combined so that he saw the dust plume, saw that one transport pull ahead just slightly and he adjusted automatically.

Shiro was grumbling about not needing that level of information about Lance’s life, his voice familiar and comforting in Lance’s ear, even though Lance was only half-listening. He took a breath, held it for a beat, and squeezed the trigger.

Immediately, that transport veered off course, drifting into the path of its neighbor and losing momentum. The neighbor managed to avoid hitting it, but had to slow down and wait for the other vehicles to pull ahead before it could get moving again. That nice, tidy, precise line was already faltering.

Perfect.

“Hey now- I never said I have _been_ to any of those clubs- just that they exist… and they involve paperwork,” he pointed out playfully. “There are fifteen transports closing in on the settlement. No idea how many ground troops each one is carrying.” He changed targets, choosing one toward the other end of his range.

Breathe.

Squeeze.

“Fourteen.” He shifted slightly, falling into a steady rhythm.

Shift.

Focus.

Breathe.

Squeeze.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

“Nine. So, Shiro… no rush or anything, but these guys are getting pretty damn close. Any ETA on those MFEs?”

“Soon… they are trying to shake a couple of firebugs.” Shiro sounded strained, “there are so many of them. Where’d they all come from?”

“Yeah… someone really dropped the ball with recon. Don’t worry. I got this. You’ve got your hands full from the sound of it.”

“Don’t worry. I got this.” Shiro echoed, and Lance felt his gut drop. There were lots of ways that he and Shiro were not alike. But Lance knew him well enough to know that they were _both_ trying to reassure themselves more than each other.

Fuck.

This was a mess.

“Seven. Listen, you gotta update those records… because that non-combatant thing? Definitely a typo. I mean… look at me, down here, combating left and right!” He joked, because it was better than worrying. Worry made you freeze.

Freezing would be bad for him.

Worse for Shiro.

So… jokes.

“I don’t have a visual on you, so I’m going to have to take you at your word,” Shiro answered, sounding a little more at ease.

“It’s a good thing you trust me then, right?”

“Yeah,” Shiro laughed softly. “Yeah, I trust you, Lance.”

“Smart man,” he grinned. The vehicles were getting closer to the blind spot behind the warehouse and making it hard to target them, so he had to change tactics. “Five transports made it through. I’m working on the peop- the _occupants_ from the ones I stopped now.”

“Fifteen down to five is great work. Our people are in good hands.” Sometimes, Shiro was a fucking blessing. Lance knew he phrased it that way on purpose. He’d caught Lance’s self-correct and reminded him why he was doing this.

He didn’t _like_ hurting people, but his targets were the ones that chose to attack a civilian settlement, and his friends were down there. He swapped out his scope for one with thermal sensors that helped him see through the dust and got back to work.

This was harder… in a few ways… and he went quiet, needing all his focus. Shiro went… well not _quiet_ really, because he was still running the Atlas and issuing orders just as he had the whole time they’d been interacting, but Lance was already used to tuning those out, to paying attention to only the bits directed at him, able to tell the difference through years of experience. Still, hearing his voice did a lot to settle his nerves. Shiro had always had that effect on him- even when they were arguing.

He had no idea how long it had been (although, he knew it had been thirty-five shots, thanks to his cursed habit of counting), but he nearly cried with relief when he heard the distinctive sound of the MFEs nearby.

Two of the newer models screeched into view, already strafing the land beyond the settlement. Lance breathed a sigh of relief, his job wasn’t done, by any stretch of the imagination, but with proper aerial support the number of ground troops left to him and whatever fighting force there was on the ground would be cut back significantly.

“My dates arrived,” he said on a relieved laugh, “somehow I ended up with two. I don’t know how I’m going to keep them apart for the whole dance! Oh, me and my wacky shenanigans!”

“Typical Lance hijinks,” Shiro replied, “when are you gonna learn?”

Another scope swap and he scooted forward, wanting a better view of the gaps between the buildings. Some tiny, detached part of his brain made him think of the video games he’d played as a kid. High vantage point, urban-esque alien setting, high tech HUD feeding him information as he watched for targets.

“See? This is why I need a catchphrase! You have a catchphrase!”

“I don’t have a catchphrase!”

“Go be great, Shiro. Your catchphrase is ‘go be great’.”

He’d had so much fun playing those games, but this was real life and while he felt good about his skills, and there was certainly an adrenaline hit from being in combat… _fun_ was one of the last words he’d choose to describe what he was feeling.

All too quickly, his skills were put to use. The first couple of Galra were well spaced and moving slowly. He had the time to get good, clean shots and they dropped fast. After that...

“Razzle dazzle,” Shiro said in his ear.

“What?” He’d had to roll up onto his side, his weight on his elbow and one knee crooked up to brace him and keep him steady as he twisted and pivoted to take shot after shot after shot. His aim was damn good and he had excellent equipment, but he was still just a human. As much as he hated that he had to take killshots, it bothered him more when they weren’t _clean_.

Suffering was not something he ever wanted to cause.

“Your catchphrase. It’s Razzle Dazzle,” explained Shiro. “Remember?”

“Oh,” he smiled, he’d forgotten all about that, “yeah. Yeah, I remem- _shit_!!” The noise of the MFEs laying down fire had completely masked the sound of an incoming ship. “We’ve got a firebug!”

One of the MFEs peeled away, climbing to a higher altitude as it banked toward the Galra ship. The fast paced maneuvers would have been impressive if they weren’t so damn deadly. Lance couldn’t afford to pull too much of his attention away from his own task, but it seemed like the MFE was succeeding in pulling the firebug away from the settlement.

“Status, McClain,” barked Shiro, making him realize he’d gone quiet.

“One of the MFEs is engaging. The other is still providing support. No sign of Keith and the others. Still more Galra incoming… what the fuck is so important about this settlement? How are there so many of them?”

“We’ll find out. We’ll get to the bottom of this! Expect more incoming support. Personnel transports are finally able to get through.”

“It’s about time, they nearly missed the whole dance. All the spiked punch is goooo- I have eyes on Keith! He’s okay… He’s… looks like he’s trying to get some kids to his ship…”

Where was Acxa… she had to be close by… where… where… where..

“The Zar’dyn is armored,” Shiro sighed, “safest place for them…”

There! Acxa, Zethrid and Ezor were _ahead_ of Keith, clearing a path. Kosmo was harder to track. He kept popping in and out, herding kids that had started to fall behind and then zapping out of sight- presumably to deal with some kind of threat.

“I see the others. Visual confirmation all still in fighting shape.” His focus shifted, instead of trying to keep the Galra out of the settlement, in general, now he was concentrating on making sure none of them got anywhere near the little rescue mission on the ground.

Children were _not_ dying on his watch!

No fucking way.

One by one he picked off potential threats. Shiro had gone so quiet in his ear that Lance was pretty sure he’d muted his end of the comms. He ignored the firefight happening above his head, not able to afford the distraction.

From where he was, the ship looked infuriatingly close to Keith and the kids, and it seemed like they were moving at a snail’s pace, but that was an illusion. Seeing things through a scope could distort distances in weird ways… and scared children weren’t as fast as he wished they were.

The most dangerous part would be when they had to run across the landing field to the ship. There was no cover at all and they were literally running _toward_ the enemy.

It was so loud.

Surface fighting was so loud compared to fighting in space.

One of the personnel transports passed overhead, so close that Lance could feel the change in the air from their exhausts. They dodged three shots from the Galra ship, the blasts hitting the mountainside and sending rock and gravel skittering down. He smiled as they set down in his peripheral vision. The support was long overdue.

His job was almost done.

There was a horrible groaning noise behind him, somehow both low-pitched enough that he could feel the rumble of it shake through his ship and shrill enough that it made him wince. The sound itself was so painful that it took him a second to register when that blinding pain seemed to jump from his head to his leg.

Everything else fell away.

The only thing he could hear was the rushing of his own blood through his body...

_... whoosh… whoosh… whoosh… whoosh..._

… and the screaming, shrieking, blindingly bright pain.

His breath came in shallow, gulping gasps that tasted oddly like mint and antiseptic.

The pain was… everything.

… and then… it just… faded.

Every loud pulse in his ear seemed to push it back further, calm flooding into the gap it left behind.

He became aware of the world around him again like it was a computer image building itself in layers.

The rifle he’d dropped lying beside him.

The MFEs overhead.

The smoking debris of the Galra ship, scattered and smoldering in the dull green expanse beyond the settlement.

 _”Lance!”_ Oh… Shiro sounded freaked out.

“M’here,” he said. His lips felt odd, and he had a weird taste in his mouth.

“Are you alright? What was that noise?”

“Oh! Umm… Yeah! Yeah. I’m… fine.” It was true. He felt… alright. There was a weight across his back that seemed kind of wrong and his helmet was blinking some kind of message on his HUD… but the pain was gone and he felt… not great… but fine.

So, what _was_ that noise?

He looked around… Oh.

Ohhh…

“I’m fine. I’m just… kinda… pinned?” He kept his voice calm, which was shockingly easy to do, really. “The radio tower… it fell on my ship. I’m pinned.”

“Come again?” Shiro sounded almost panicked. That was… not good.

“I’m fine. But the radio tower… it… uh… it fell over and pinned me to my ship.”

“I’m sending someone to help.” Yeah, Shiro still sounded pretty freaked out.

“No! It’s fine. Really. It’s not that bad. Once everyone else is dealt with, you can send someone to me.” He picked his rifle back up and wiped the back of his hand across the faceshield of his suit, clearing his vision. “Keith needs me to cover him and those kids.”

“You’re not hurt?”

“Shiro, I promise, I’m not in any pain. I’m just kind of stuck here.”

“Fine. Just… keep me updated on the situation.”

“Copy that, Captain Shirogane,” he teased. It took a minute for him to switch gears again and get back to work.

It took several more for him to realize that it should have taken longer.

That’s when he remembered the message on the HUD and spared a moment to read it.

<<Medical alert- multiple serious injuries detected. Body temperature readings below normal. Blood pressure readings below normal. Analgesic and panic suppression administered. Get immediate medical attention.>>

He should probably say something about that… and he would. As soon as Keith and those kids were either safe in the Zar’dyn, or the coalition support took over what he was doing.

The eerie calm he was feeling helped. It helped him stay focused and ignore the little niggling voice in the back of his head that told him to be scared, tried to make him feel bad about shooting Galra _people_ instead of Galra _droids_. It kept his hands steady and his vision clear, even when a strange coolness started to spread through him.

“They are almost to the ship,” he said, as much to himself as to Shiro, “visual confirmation that they are all still in fighting shape. Visual confirmation of nine children- no visible injuries.”

“Good work. I’m sending people to you.”

“No! Not yet! The Zar’dyn isn’t big enough for that many- the kids… they need to be on the transport.”

“We are pulling you out of there, McClain. That’s an order!”

“You only outrank me when I am _on the ship_ Shiro. I’m not, so you don’t. Get the kids safe first.” Lance giggled, “I don’t even have a curfew.”

“What?”

“I don’t have a curfew… cuz… the jokes about the party and the dance and dates and stuff? Kids have curfews. I don’t have a curfew.” It was funny. Shiro would get it in a minute.

His helmet bleated at him. Three quick, sharp bursts of sound and then there was a minty mist spraying into his mouth and nose.

<<Medical alert- multiple serious injuries detected. Analgesic and panic suppression administered. Get immediate medical attention.>>

“Lance! That was your biomed system! What’s going on?”

“M’face z’numb…”

Shiro started yelling at him, but it all kind of blurred together and felt far, far away.

He braced his rifle against his shoulder and forced himself to focus… to keep the kids and his friends… safe… They were… so close…


	2. U da best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance begins his recovery with a lot of help from Veronica and Shiro.

When he’d been living on the Castleship, Lance had never enjoyed the experience of waking in a pod. It felt like he’d been frozen down to his core and it always took a day or two to shake that lingering chill. It was something he used to grumble about a lot.

That had been before he’d ever experienced waking from being put under by human medications.

He’d much rather a cryopod thankyouverymuch!

Not that he really had that option.

He groaned. His stomach was churning and he had the spins. The two sensations combined made him think, for a second, that he’d gotten black out drunk. But, he also itched from head to toe, and it felt like his mouth was _made_ of cotton wool, paste, and sand all at the same time. Sound cut in and out, which was irritating, and when he tried to open his eyes it… just... didn’t work.

There was something tickling the inside of his nose. Something else squeezed his arm in weird, slow pulses. He wasn’t in any pain, but his body just felt _so strange_. Kind of like how his mouth felt after a trip to the dentist… but, like… _everywhere_.

Another groan escaped him, and he tried to roll onto his side to settle his stomach, but didn’t get far. Moving even a tiny amount made the nausea worse, and someone gently pressed on his shoulder, keeping him in place. They gave him a straw to sip some water, though, so that was nice.

“Shhh… don’t try to move yet. Just… lie still. Rest. Breathe.”

Yeah.

Okay.

That sounded like good advice.

He should do that.

“You just said that outloud, Lance,” said the voice.

It was a nice voice.

He liked that voice.

It was nice.

“You just said that outloud, too.”

Oh.

This time when he tried to open his eyes, it worked. Kinda. The room was so bright he squinted and had to blink a bunch of times… which ended up with his eyes closed again. He’d barely gotten a glimpse of the person who was holding his hand… or _petting_ his hand? Both?

He was very confused.

“It’s okay. I know this is confusing.”

Woooah! They could read his _mind_!!

“No Lance… you are talking. I can just hear you. The regular way.”

Scrunching his face up to ward off the brightness of the light, he opened his eyes again.

Holy crow! There were _two_ people!

“I thought you had no brain to mouth filter _before_... you are proving me right- annnd I have a witness. How are you feeling?”

“Weird. I feel weird. Wuh.. what happened, Veronica?”

“You got hurt and needed surgery, nene,” she said, smoothing his hair back from his face with the hand that had been petting his own.

“Hurt?” He tried to remember through the haze in his head, “was it… did I crash my Lion?”

No.

That couldn’t be right. The Lions were gone.

“I mean… my ship. Did I crash my… ship? Am I in trouble?

Veronica just shook her head, and wiped tears from her eyes. She was crying! Oh no! He made a shushing sound and tried to stroke her face, but moving was weird and he kinda just slapped her a little bit.

“You’re not in any trouble, Lance,” said the nice voice, making him jump.

“Woah! Shiro is here? Veronica, did you know Shiro was here?”

“Yes, Lance, I knew he was here. We’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”

“Awww… thaz’nice! You guys are nice. I have nice friends.”

“Boy, they really have you on the good meds, Sharpshooter,” Shiro said softly.

_Sharpshooter!_

“Ohhhh…” He’d been… There was a thing… on a planet… Keith… and… _kids_? “The… thing… the tall… thing… it fell. It fell on me!”

“Mmmhmm,” Veronica nodded, her face crumpling as she dissolved into tears.

“Ohhh… oh no!” Panic built in his chest, pushing away the haziness in his mind, “did something bad happen to Acxa? Keith? Oh no… Kosmo didn’t get hurt, right?”

“No.. uhm.. No… just…” her words choked off and she turned to Shiro.

“Nothing bad happened to Acxa, Keith or Kosmo. They’re fine. So are Ezor and Zethrid and the children. They are all fine. Thanks to you.” He pulled a chair over, setting it close to the bed and taking a seat. His smile was sad, though, even though that was all good news. “You saved them. They are all safe and sound, I promise.”

“Oh good… See? You don’t have to cry, Veronica. She’s okay. Everybody’s okay.”

“Lance.” Shiro rested his hand on Lance’s shoulder, his voice soft. “ _You_ got hurt. You needed surgery. The radio tower fell and pinned you to your ship. Do you remember that?”

“Ummm… Kinda?” Another wave of nausea washed over him making his breath shake and rattle in his chest. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe slowly and evenly until it passed.

“That’s okay. It’s okay if you don’t really remember. You were pinned, and your suit’s biomed system kicked in- dosed you with meds that can mess with memory sometimes. James and Kosmo got you out and back to us, but you were really badly hurt Lance. You almost died.”

“I… what?? No. No, that can’t be right. It wasn’t that bad. I’d remember if it was that bad.”

“Lance, nene, it was very bad.” Veronica squeezed his hand. “It’s been a week. They’ve been keeping you sedated to help you heal. You’ve had four surgeries.”

“This is… some kind of joke, right?” He shook his head, and immediately regretted it as dizziness and nausea broke out into a full-blown battle over who got to make him feel worse. “If it was that bad, the doctor would be in here talking to me.”

“That’s… uh… that’s my fault. I thought this news would be better coming from someone you trust and who cares about you.” Shiro took a deep breath and let it out, “Lance… your right leg was crushed. It was crushed, then it was pinned, and after Kosmo flashed you to James’ ship you were bleeding too much and he needed to tourniquet it. They thought, at first, that with surgery- plates and pins and artificial bone scaffolding… but you developed an abscess, and you had other injuries.”

He trailed off and Veronica squeezed his hand, “this surgery, it was to try to drain the abscess. They worked really hard, Lance… but… they just couldn’t save your leg.”

“No,” he shook his head, too caught up in the panic that was clawing at him to even register the way his stomach lurched and his head swam. “No! No. Nonononononono…”

That couldn’t be right. It couldn’t!

He yanked his hand away from his sister, struggling to pull himself up. To kick the blankets off. Anything.

“Lance!” Shiro’s hands caught his own and he pressed him back into the mattress. “Stop. You had other injuries, other surgeries. Remember?” His voice was stern, but kind, “they gave you spinal anesthesia to make you more comfortable and keep you from moving around too much. You can’t sit up on your own. But we can help. Okay? I know you want to see, so I’ll help.”

He nodded helplessly, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes and the cold fingers of dread take root. Shiro’s eyes were so full of compassion, and that, more than anything made him start to believe that it might be true.

The bed made a soft whirring noise as it folded itself into something close to a chair. Both the foot and the head of the bed rose, the head continuing for a moment longer than the foot until he was positioned much like he would be in a recliner.

He was surprised to realise that he’d closed his eyes. Even though he’d been desperate for visual proof just minutes ago, now, he didn’t want it. He was afraid to look. Afraid to see.

“Do you want me to fold the blankets back for you?”

“Umm… yeah… please.”

He heard the scrape of chairs being pushed back, then the clatter of the bed railing being lowered on the opposite side from where Shiro and his sister had been sitting. The sandalwood and jasmine scent of Veronica’s shampoo filled his nose, drowning out the tinny antiseptic hospital smell. She wriggled her arm behind his neck to hold him close, her head resting against his. “You’re not alone. I’m right here. We’re both right here. Not going anywhere. You wanna squeeze my hand?”

He nodded again, barely managing to squeak out an ‘uh-huh’ before he held his hand out. She laced their fingers together and clung to him. Her grip was strong, just shy of painful, but that was good. It helped him feel rooted in reality.

“Remember, you _just_ came out of surgery. There are bandages and drains, and there is swelling… plus bruising and stitches from the accident,” Shiro said, “there are going to be changes as you heal.”

“That sounds bad. Is it really bad?” There was some stubborn part of his brain still trying to insist that this was some kind of twisted joke… but mostly, he could hear the truth in their voices, and he knew that neither of them would ever make light of this kind of thing. He was closer to Veronica and Shiro than he was to anyone else.

“No! I just wanted you to be prepared for what you are going to see.”

“It doesn’t look bad, nene,” Veronica whispered, kissing his temple. “Lots of bandages, some tubes… swelling… but it’s not gross.”

“Take your time.” Shiro caught his other hand, giving it a squeeze, “whenever you are ready. We’ll sit with you as long as you need.”

“Okay... okay…” he took a deep breath, holding both their hands in a death grip. “Okay… um… how… I mean… where… or… what’s… uh…” He couldn’t figure out how to phrase the question, couldn’t make the words leave his mouth.

Thankfully, Shiro seemed to know what he was trying to ask. “They had to take it at the knee. Just above the joint.”

“So, the whole thing isn’t gone?”

“The whole thing isn’t gone,” Veronica repeated, “they were very pleased with how much they could save.”

“Okay… I just… I need a minute.”

“We’re not going anywhere, Lance.”

He hung on to them for several long breaths and a couple of failed attempts to muster up his nerve and they never pushed or lost patience. They just stayed there, with him, lending him their strength until he found his own.

“Okay,” the word shook a little but he was resolute. “Here I go.” He opened his eyes, but couldn’t bring himself to look down right away. First, he locked eyes with Shiro who gave him a little encouraging nod.

Then he looked down at his lap.

Even with the warning, it took a second for him to fully register what he was seeing. It just… didn’t seem _real_.

Shiro had been very careful about how he’d folded the blankets out of the way. It was all very neat and tidy, nothing but what remained of his right leg was visible. They’d both been very honest about what he would see, too. Bandages, tubes, swelling, bruising.

It was just…

 _Hearing_ those words was a completely different reality than _seeing_ what they were describing.

The swelling was… much more than he expected. It didn’t look like his leg. It was almost twice the size he expected it to be, the skin above the border of the majority of the bandages all mottled with bruising. He tried to shift it, to feel some sense of connection to it as part of his body, but Shiro hadn’t been kidding about that spinal anesthesia. He barely felt anything below the mid-point of his chest.

It wasn’t gruesome though. It just looked like… a leg, wrapped in bandages, with a couple of tubes leading away from it.

A strange calmness settled over him.

This wasn’t so bad.

It could have been a lot worse.

If that radio tower had fallen at a slightly different angle, he would have been killed. His life was more important than his leg, right?

And… he’d done what he’d set out to do- protect his friends and innocent civilians from an attack.

So… all things considered? Small price to pay.

“I would be so pissed right now if I’d gotten that tattoo I was planning,” he said quietly.

“What?!?!” Veronica looked at him like he’d sprouted horns and a tail.

“It was supposed to go on my right calf, and it would have been expensive. I would have hated to have gone through all that for a tattoo, only to lose it to some random space weirdness. Who would ever have guessed I’d have a radio tower fall on me?”

He was not okay. He knew he wasn’t, knew that this calm was a false one. He remembered this from when Allu- from _before_.

It was kind of like what his brain did when he was in combat. Push the complicated, messy stuff out of the way and focus on small things, funny things, little distractions so he could keep doing what he needed to do.

They took his leg.

They took his _leg_.

He couldn’t stop staring at… the… not the stump. That wasn’t the right word. He knew it wasn’t the right word. There was a different word. The… remainder?

No.

Something like that, though. Definitely an ‘r-e’ word.

Remnant??

No.

Re… Reeee…

 _Residual!_ That was it!

The _residual limb_. He couldn’t look away from it. It just seemed so… wrong. Like, it was something that shouldn’t even be able to exist.

“Tattoos hurt a lot, too. It was going to take forever to get it… man, I’d be so pissed right now if I’d gotten that done.”

Shiro squeezed his hand in sympathy, but he barely felt it. “Veronica? You haven’t eaten in hours. You should go get food. Call your family. Let them know that he’s awake and coherent.”

“I can’t,” she answered brokenly, half hugging him. “Shiro, I can’t.”

“I’ll stay with Lance. You need to eat and your family is worried sick. Take an hour. One hour.”

“Mami will want-”

“I know. I do. But now’s not the time. You know that. You promised me that once he was awake, you’d eat. Take a break. Don’t make your family keep worrying any longer than they have to. I’ll stay. Alright?”

“Lance? If you want me to stay, I will.”

“Umm.. no. Tell everyone back home I love them. Okay?”

“Are you sure?” she asked, cupping his face softly. He managed to pull his eyes away from the spot on the bed where his knee _should_ be but _wasn’t_ to look at her. She looked exhausted. Worn down and scared and heartbroken.

How many times was he going to make his family cry over him?

“Mmhmm,” he nodded, not really trusting himself to form words at the moment.

“Okay. Alright. I’ll go. But I’ll be back in one hour.” Gingerly, like she was afraid he might shatter, she hugged him. “I love you so much, nene. You know that, right?”

He couldn’t talk. He couldn’t. Not when Veronica was so close to staying with him instead of taking care of herself. He’d break, and she’d hear it and stay… and he felt like the worst kind of asshole, because they were so close… but he did _not_ want her to stay. So, he returned the hug as best he could without causing a snarl of tubes and wires, and he nodded into the crook of her neck.

“Okay.” Pulling away, she kissed the top of his head as she stood up. “One hour. I promise.” On her way out the door she pointed at Shiro sternly… like she thought he was going to make a break for it or something.

Very carefully, Shiro cleared a space on the bed beside Lance and sat on the mattress facing him. His grey eyes were kind and sad. Red-rimmed like he’d been crying, or needed sleep. Shiro had a great poker face, but when he wasn’t trying to bluff, his face was incredibly expressive. You could read him easily if you knew how.

After all this time, Lance knew how.

Shiro was worried about him. Worried about Veronica. Relieved that things weren’t worse. Angry that they were as bad as they were. So many layers of emotions on his face. More than Lance could decipher with his head clouded from medication the way it was right now.

“Oh,” he sighed, shoulders dropping.

That was all it took.

That cool calm that had been wrapping around Lance cracked like an eggshell. His breathing hitched. Eyes stung. Chest ached. Throat burned.

Another hitch, like his lungs were hesitant, unsure how to operate in this new reality.

This distorted body.

“My leg,” he managed before he slumped forward.

Shiro caught him effortlessly, just like he always had.

Like he always would.

Being held by Shiro was familiar and wholly unique. His floating hand cupped the back of Lance’s head, thumb stroking back and forth against his scalp. The metal forearm, powered by the gem from Allura’s crown, settled between his shoulder blades and pressed him close. His other arm wrapped low on Lance’s ribs. He could barely feel it, because of the spinal, but he could still tell how gentle Shiro was being with him.

_Other injuries…_

_Four surgeries…_

Vaguely, it occurred to him that he should get more information about what ‘other injuries’ meant later. For now, he just knew that Shiro was being careful with good reason.

His own arms were coiled around Shiro’s waist. His face pressed high on Shiro’s left pec. His tears soaking into Shiro’s shirt.

Shiro made soft shushing noises, and rested his face against the top of Lance’s head just like he always did.

“They-ey-ey-ey took m-m-m-m-my lllllllleg,” he whimpered, the words all broken up by jagged sobs and desperate gulps of air.

“I know. I know, Lance. I’m so sorry this happened to you…”

“S’not… faaaairrrr... “

“I know. It’s really not…” He could swear Shiro sounded like he was crying, too. “It’s so unfair.”

How many times had Shiro held him like this over the years? Strong and solid enough that Lance felt like he could voice all the awful, selfish, petty thoughts and feelings that plagued him.

How many times had he opened his arms and transformed into a kind of emotional particle barrier, keeping all the ugliness of grief from spilling over and tainting everything in Lance’s life?

Lance loved his family. That was no secret. He loved them, and they loved him. They loved him so much that they never believed that he’d run away, they never stopped looking for him. Even when Zarkon’s war spilled over onto their home planet and caused so very much damage, they’d kept looking. His absence had hurt them all so much. Being helpless had changed them. Every one of them had this… haunted quality about them now.

He couldn’t bear the thought of being the reason that any of them cried, or hurt at all.

So, when he lost Allura, he couldn’t help but hide the worst of that pain from them.  
He just… couldn’t let them see him rage and spiral. He couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing them with the darker, conflicting things he thought and felt.

Shiro had understood.

He’d seen right through Lance’s ‘sad but accepting’ act. He’d seen the anger, jealousy, resentment, and guilt that Lance was keeping bottled up. He hadn’t pushed or judged Lance. No, Shiro had just… opened up about what he was feeling. He’d trusted Lance with all the rancour he, himself, had been hiding.

Shiro laid his soul bare to show Lance that he wasn’t corrupted and festering for feeling the way he did, and that had given Lance the courage to be vulnerable. It had brought them closer, transformed their friendship, tempered it.

Lance couldn’t let his family see all his damage and pain. He just couldn’t- not without burying himself under guilt for causing them more pain.

He couldn’t fall into Veronica’s arms and sob until he didn’t have any tears left, or whine about all the tiny losses that each stung like a papercut.

But…

He could with Shiro.

So, he did.

Every little hurt, no matter how small, ridiculous, vain, petty, or cowardly, fell from his lips the instant they crossed his mind, wedged in between angry wails and soundless gasps and tremulous keening.

“I got you,” Shiro murmured, steady as a rock. “Let it out… I’m not going anywhere..”

Anguish bubbled up from depths he didn’t know he had. Caustic sobs racked him, making him quake in Shiro’s arms. It hurt to breathe. The pain of each ragged breath left his throat in ribbons, his ribs cracked and smoldering. His hands bunched up the back of Shiro’s shirt, fingers cramping from the rage that polluted him. He cried hot, angry tears that felt like acid. Like they’d leave burn scars in their wake, for all the world to see. Like the marks Allura had gifted him with.

A private hell paraded out for public scrutiny. A living billboard of pain and loss.

Shiro never faltered. He didn’t rush him or try to cajole him away from the outpouring of emotion with platitudes and bright sides and silver linings. He would never dream of trying to make it ‘all better’. It wouldn’t even occur to him to downplay the _cost_ of what happened.

He wept himself dry, and Shiro held him close. He sobbed and whimpered and whined until it felt like he’d exhausted all the oxygen on the Atlas cradled against Shiro’s chest.

“How much do we have to lose to Zarkon’s _fucking_ war?” He muttered once his voice returned and his breathing stopped going all herky jerky without warning.

“I don’t know, Lance,” Shiro sighed. He made no move to let Lance go. He never did, always waiting until Lance started to pull away before unwrapping his arms. “It’s already taken far too much.”

Zarkon’s _fucking_ war!

It had stolen _so much_ from him.

When other seventeen year olds were stressing about exams and figuring themselves out- Lance had been on the front lines of a war.

His beautiful planet, virtually unrecognizable in the aftermath of Sendak’s occupation, and still not fully recovered.

Three _years_ of the lives of his family, all those birthdays and Christmases and… just… movie nights and beach days and cooking with his mother and water fights with his siblings and all the little precious moments that families had.

Allura.

And now… his leg.

Lance was a kindhearted person, by nature. He tended to think of himself as forgiving and compassionate, but it was hard, at the moment, to muster up much forgiveness or compassion for Haggar and Zarkon. They’d caused so much hardship and pain, for so very long.

They were both dead, and people were still instigating violence in Zarkon’s name.

He didn’t want to think about that.

Thinking about them too much took him down dark paths in his mind… and he had enough on his mind as it was.

He drew in a shaky breath and leaned back. Shiro helped him get settled back against the hospital bed and mussed up his hair, triggering a bit of a smile, despite everything. “You must be exhausted,” he said, voice soft, “let’s get you comfortable.”

“Yeah…” Now that Shiro mentioned it, he really was exhausted… and he was growing more uncomfortable by the minute. His back and leg and abdomen weren’t painful yet, but they had that nebulous feeling that usually signalled that medication was starting to wear off. “I am… wow… that hit fast.”

“There’s a reason ‘cry yourself to sleep’ is an expression, Lance,” he said conversationally, “it’s because it is tiring. You fiddle with the buttons on the bed until you are comfortable. I’m going to get a washcloth.”

Before he could do that, he had to fix his blankets. Carefully, he unfolded Shiro’s work and paused, staring at that empty space that was supposed to be occupied by his right leg. Fear and pain welled up in his chest, closed off his throat, made his hands tremble… but there were no tears left to cry, and the burning rage that had accompanied them seemed to be banked, for the time being.

He glanced at the door Shiro had ducked through, suddenly feeling impossibly alone.

He was just getting a washcloth, Lance reminded himself. He’d be right back… and he was like… twenty feet away. It was ridiculous to get all worked up because he was twenty feet away from the nearest person for all of five minutes! Irritated with himself, he fixed the blankets and poked at buttons until the bed was back to a comfortable angle for sleeping.

Shiro returned just as he was gingerly trying to shift his weight so he could roll onto his side for a bit. “Lance, don’t. I can help you. You literally just had surgery.”

“I just want to move a little, I can do that,” he grumbled.

“Please just let me help you? There are so many sensors and tubes and wires, and you’ve got medications that will affect your muscles. Just for a day or so, accept the help, alright?”

Shiro looked so concerned and his voice was so pleading that Lance couldn’t bear to refuse him. “Fine. For now… you can help.”

“Oh, thank God, I did not want to have to face the wrath of Veronica if you popped your stitches or something!”

He cringed, he hadn’t even thought of stitches… or pissing off his sister! “Good point.”

Draping a cloth over the lower railing of the bed, Shiro returned to his seat. “Before we move you, let’s get you cleaned up a bit. The tears are gonna make your face itch as they dry.”

Lance’s eyes darted to the cloth on the rail but Shiro held up another one. “Why two?”

“This one is warm, that one is cool. Trust me, I know my way around hospital stays.” Cupping Lance’s jaw lightly, Shiro dragged the warm cloth over his forehead. It felt really nice, chasing away the too-tight feeling of his skin after the prolonged crying jag. He let himself relax into the soft touch, the warm water on his skin. Shiro slowly wiped down most of his face, at first skipping over the oxygen tube that looped over each ear and explained the tickling in his nose that had confused him when he was waking up, and then removing it and making another pass with the cloth. “There, that’s better, right?” He asked as he replaced the oxygen tube.

“Mmhmm,” he answered sleepily, blinking at him, slow and heavy. “Why the other one?”

“No cucumber slices,” Shiro answered with a smile. He was absently brushing Lance’s hair back from his face so the fine strands didn’t stick to him as his skin dried. It was nice. Relaxing. “But once you are settled, you can use it to soothe your eyes.”

“Good thinking,” he murmured, the words prompting a yawn.

“You wanted to move?”

“Mmm… yeah… just onto my side a little… Can I lie on my side?”

“Not all the way… but I can prop you up a little. How’s that sound?”

“Mmm’kay…”

Shiro laughed softly, the sound warm and affectionate, and then the fingers were gone from his hair and he could hear his friend moving around the room. After a moment, Shiro helped him roll slightly onto his left side, tucking something under his back from shoulder to hip to keep him from rolling back. “S’good… thanks…”

“It’s no problem, Lance. You should rest. You’ve got a lot of healing to do.” He fiddled with the blankets a little, and Lance could feel gentle shifting and tugging that told him that Shiro was sorting out the various things attached to him so that they weren’t pinched off or snarled or too snug or whatever.

“You leaving?” The pleasant fuzz of his increasing drowsiness flattened out, something close to fear starting to build in his gut.

“I wasn’t planning to,” he answered, “but if you want me t-”

“No!” Eyes flying wide, he grabbed at Shiro’s arm, struggling to gain purchase on the metal.

“Woah! Okay,” his other hand covered Lance’s, warm and strong. “Okay… I’m staying. I’m not going anywhere, Lance. Alright?”

“Don’wanna be alone,” he explained, feeling a little sheepish about his reaction.

“Of course not. You’ve been through a lot. The very least I can do is stay and keep you company. That’s what friends are for, right?” Sitting down again, he grabbed the cool cloth, “the red, puffy eyes really make those baby blues pop.”

“Seriously?”

“You want the cloth, or not?”

“Yeah,” he replied. Shiro set it gingerly over his eyes, smoothing it until it sat comfortably over the irritated skin and then going back to brushing his fingers through Lance’s hair. There was a soft beep and a strange, almost scratchy warmth spread out from his iv port, travelling up his arm and spreading through his chest. It seemed to wash over his head like a lazy wave, dulling everything and making that drowsiness settle over him again. “S’nice…”

“Painkillers,” Shiro sounded so relieved, “good. You just settle in. We aren’t going to leave you alone for a minute unless you tell us to. You’re not alone. Get some rest while you can.”

He tried to answer, but his words were swallowed by a yawn and Shiro chuckled at him. He felt the metal arm roll out of his grasp, slow and easy, and shift, fingers entangling with his own.

“I got you, Lance. I got you,” he heard, far away and soft, as sleep pulled him under.

He woke up in a completely different room, still clinging tight to Shiro’s metal hand. Shiro and his sister were slumped together in chairs near the door to a bathroom, a blanket he recognized as the one Shiro usually had draped over the back of his couch covering them.

The memory of his new reality settled over him like a fog, cool and dense and vaguely ominous.

He’d been hurt.

Badly hurt.

Four surgeries. A week under sedation. They’d had to amputate his leg.

His leg was gone.

The reminder froze the breath in his lungs. That fog got thicker, colder, denser. He shivered, tugging Shiro’s arm a little closer. Shiro made a sleepy murmur, head turning toward Lance and he felt him squeeze his hand in reassurance without him even waking.

That was soooo Shiro- offering up support and comfort even in his sleep. There was just something about him that made things seem a little less scary. A little less hopeless.

Lance couldn’t help but smile watching his friend sleep in an uncomfortable chair, his arm slung around Veronica- who looked much more comfortable than Shiro did. That was also sooo Shiro, sacrificing his own comfort for hers. Sacrificing a night in his own bed because he promised Lance he wasn’t going anywhere. That was just what he did for the people he cared about.

The door opened and a Coalition Medical Personnel stepped into the room, skimming over a datapad. She looked to be around his age, her brown hair slicked back in a low bun and a sympathetic smile on her face. “Ambassador McClain, it’s nice to see you awake. I’m Dr. Emma Bashir, your surgeon.” Her voice was soft. Quiet so she wouldn’t wake the others, but also, soft in a gentle way. She extended her hand to shake his, but let it drop when she saw that he made no move to let go of the metal forearm he was clinging to like a child with a teddy bear. “Ordinarily, I would have stopped by while you were in the recovery suite to introduce myself, but Captain Shirogane was... very insistent on remote monitoring with only him and XO McClain present as long as your vitals were good and you were coherent.”

“I… uh… I guess it is a good sign that I didn’t meet you last night, then, huh?” He wasn’t sure why Shiro would have been so insistent, but he was really glad he had been. Things seemed a lot more manageable today than they had when he’d first woken up.

Her smile brightened and she nodded. “Yes. It is definitely a good sign. I’m sure you have a lot of questions and I’m here to answer them, but first I’d like to check your incisions and give you a bit of an exam, if that’s alright?”

He agreed, and she tapped a button on her datapad. A pale blue wall of light appeared between him and Shiro and Veronica, the projected partition growing more opaque by the second.

A privacy screen.

Right.

Dr. Bashir was gentle and thorough, but the examination was still difficult- equal parts scary, heartbreaking, and mortifying. He’d never had surgery for anything before and he’d been so caught up in the obvious aftermath of it that he hadn’t even thought about things like… catheters and prevention of bed sores and incision care and the constipating effects of pain medication and learning to use a wheelchair and circulation in the residual limb- and honestly? If there was anything that illustrated just how strange and disconcerting Lance found the whole conversation, it was the fact that he spent a chunk of it discussing nurses massaging his stump multiple times a day to deal with swelling and stiffness without even _thinking_ of a single wisecrack.

“This is… it’s… a lot,” he murmured, rubbing at his face.

Dr. Bashir nodded, “it is. I know. It’s a lot to take in, but you don’t have to remember all the details. You’re going to be here for a while, and your family has been very proactive about learning how to support you. It’s small, but you’ve got a good team.”

_A good team._

He glanced over to where Veronica and Shiro slept, but all he could see was that privacy screen. Didn’t matter. Knowing that they were there was enough. Hanging on to Shiro’s hand was extra reassurance. “Yeah… I do. They’re great.” He took a steadying breath and gathered his courage, “Roni said I had four surgeries? I don’t… remember… being hurt? So, I’m… confused…”

Nodding again, she tapped the screen of her datapad. “The memory issue is probably tied to the high level of medication administered by your suit. According to the biomed system records, it was over an hour between the injury and help getting to you. You sustained significant crush injuries and developed compartment syndrome. In addition, there was a delay between your removal and the application of the tourniquette which caused issues with widespread infection. We were able to repair a lot of the damage without surgery. You were on dialysis round the clock for several days to prevent renal failure. During the first surgery we used some Galran tech to take a lot of the strain of normal functions off of your body, so it could heal more effectively, there was damage to several organs that needed surgical repair- liver, appendix, bladder, and lower intestine. We tried to rebuild the bone in your lower leg, which took two separate additional surgeries. Then you developed an abscess that was not responding to antibiotics and we needed to amputate your leg. During that surgery, we disconnected the Galra tech. It might not seem that way now, but you are recovering at an exceptional rate. We think that your unique physiology may be at play…”

“My uniq- oh. The marks… You think Allura’s gift is healing me?”

“Alteans recover from traumatic injury much faster than humans do and are more resilient, in general. You remained coherent and functional for a long time after you were hurt and yes, you had quite a few serious issues to contend with, but honestly? I’d seen footage of how you were found before I walked into the operating suite and I was shocked that the situation wasn’t much worse than it was. We’ve also noted that your marks glow intermittently, even when you were under deep sedation.”

“Oh. Well… that’s good, I guess,” he wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He tended to ignore the marks Allura had gifted him with most of the time. There had been times, early on, when they’d been a huge comfort, and times when he hated them so much he wanted to... just… _burn them off_ so he didn’t have to see the reminder of her loss in every glimpsed reflection. Eventually, they just became part of him, no more noticeable to him than the small scar at his hairline from falling at the beach as a kid or the little mole next to his ear.

He wouldn’t be able to function if he thought too much about them. He’d learned that when he did, he tended to get caught up in his memories of her, bogged down by the pressure to live up to her incredibly high bar. Invariably, he would burn himself out trying to meet impossible standards and end up feeling like a failure. It was a bad cycle he’d worked hard to break.

Shiro had been the one to help him figure it out and he’d been the one to reassure Lance that Allura wouldn’t be hurt or slighted in anyway if he wasn’t thinking about her every minute of every day, and that she wouldn’t want him to do _anything_ that caused him pain.

“We’re going to continue to monitor your recovery, and you are going to need a significant amount of physical therapy to relearn how to navigate the world around you safely, but I’m pleased to tell you that the surgery went very well, you have minimal nerve damage and retain a lot of the muscle in your thigh. We’ll discuss options in more detail once you have healed more, but at this point, it seems likely that you will have quite a few paths open to you in terms of prosthetics.”

“Prosthet- oh… right,” somehow, it hadn’t occurred to him that he might get a prosthetic… which seemed really obvious to him at the moment.

“Not everyone chooses to use artificial limbs,” she said gently, “I’m simply saying that if your recovery goes as well as we think it might, you are _able_ to make use of that option.”

“Alright. That makes sense. I’m sorry, I’m not really retaining a lot of this. My head is pretty fuzzy.”

“That’s fine. You’ve been through a lot and you are still on fairly high doses of medication. We’ll be weaning you off of those over time once you are ready.” She glanced at her datapad again, “do you have any questions for me before I go?”

“Umm… am I going to need more surgeries?” He felt a gentle squeeze from Shiro, he must be awake on the other side of the privacy screen.

“At this point, you are stable, the infection seems to be responding to the new antibiotics, we were able to do everything we needed with the amputation, so… if all of that stays true, and you don’t develop any other issues, I think… probably not. I can’t predict the future and bodies can be pretty chaotic, but your prognosis is much better today than it was the first time we operated.”

“Thank-you Dr. Bashir,” he said, trying to stave off a yawn and failing.

“You are very welcome Ambassador McClain,” she answered, “you are going to be pretty tired for a while. Recovering from this is going to take a lot of energy. I know you have a gaggle of visitors waiting in the wings to get the thumbs up to see you, but please try to pace yourself. Alright?”

“You make me sound so popular,” he chuckled, yawing again. He’d been fine just a few minutes ago and now he felt like he was six and trying to stay up to ring in the New Year, barely able to keep his eyes open.

“I think that is a pretty accurate assessment. You seem to have pretty solid support from the Captain and your sister. Which is very good.” She glanced at her datapad and sighed, “I’ve got to continue my rounds. I’ll be back to check on you this evening, and we’ll see about taking out the spinal block then. Get some rest.”

“Mmmhmmm,” he nodded against the pillow, eyes already at half mast and Shiro’s hand still held in a deathgrip.

As she left the room, the privacy screen faded out to reveal Veronica still asleep, now supported a bit more comfortably, and Shiro looking at him with concern.

“You need your hand back?” Lance asked quietly.

Shiro shook his head, his thumb stroking Lance’s skin gently. “I’m not going anywhere until she wakes up, so I’m good. How are you feeling?”

“Tired. Still doesn’t seem real… Everything is kinda… off… and I can tell stuff hurts, but I don’t really feel it. It’s weird.”

“It takes time to sink in… and pain meds can mess with you, too.”

“Mmm… can’t believe how tired I am…”

“Go back to sleep, Lance. You need the rest.”

“When do you guys work?” He didn’t want to wake up alone. He didn’t want to be alone while he slept, but he _definitely_ didn’t want to wake up to fuzzy-headed confusion and an empty hospital room.

“Unless there’s an emergency, neither of us need to be on the Bridge for a few days. It’s covered. You are the priority right now.”

“You don’t have to do that…”

“We made the decision when you were sedated, so you missed the vote. It’s all arranged and settled. Don’t argue or you’ll upset your sister.”

Well, that was a surefire way to shut him up. He glared at Shiro for a moment before deciding it took too much effort. “You’re staying here?”

“We mostly take shifts, but yeah. No crowds and no leaving you alone, for a few days at least.”

“Thank-you, Shiro…”

“You’d do the same for me, Lance,” he answered, his voice soft.

Lance’s eyes refused to open, but he could nod, and he managed to mumble out “I would, for sure,” before he dozed off.

* * *

Once they removed the spinal block, things changed. That weird disconnected-from-his-body feeling was gone. Unfortunately, it was replaced by pain.

So much pain.

His back hurt. So, did his entire abdomen, his hips and both legs… even in places that technically didn’t even exist anymore… like his right ankle. Phantom limb pain was common after a traumatic limb loss like his, according to the doctors.

It was still a head trip though.

He desperately wanted to roll over onto his stomach, or get out of bed to stretch out stiff muscles, but those were not viable options at the moment. He was too weak, the surgeries too recent, and the array of tubes and wires too complicated. He was stuck on his back, or propped up the way Shiro had done that first night.

Without the spinal block, the pain was being treated with analgesics, anti-inflammatories, and other medications designed to reduce pain in one way or another. So he was loopy as fuck and prone to dozing off without warning.

He had no idea how much time he’d lost to that weird, dreamy haze of exhaustion and high doses of medication. He didn’t really trust his memory, but he thought that he’d taken vid-calls from his family and closest friends. He had a vague recollection of Krolia singing to him that he was pretty sure didn’t really happen.

He did know that when reality started to _stick_ again, Shiro and Veronica had returned to duty. There were a few long, lonely days between that and the start of his physical therapy, but he would never complain to them. They’d both dropped everything to be there for him, and he knew that they’d do it again if he gave them any sign that he needed or wanted them to.

One or the other of them was with him practically every moment they weren’t actively working, as it stood. They even took turns sleeping overnight on the little cot they’d managed to argue their way into setting up in his room. It wasn’t fair of him to expect _that much_ attention. They had other commitments, other friends… whole lives that he didn’t want them to put on hold because he’d gotten hurt. So, after a few days of very basic physical therapy sessions in the late morning, he was glad to hear that he’d recovered enough that Dr. Bashir was giving the okay for other _in person_ visitors. He hoped it would let his sister and Shiro take some of the pressure on themselves.

He woke slowly, the first thing that he registered was that the soft, fuzzy blanket from Shiro’s couch was tucked around him… which meant that his overnight guest had already headed off to work for the day. The next thing that he noticed was weight on his foot… which was odd.

He tried to pull his leg out from under whatever had been set at the end of his bed and was rewarded for his effort with a familiar whine.

“Kosmo?!?!” His eyes flew open and sure enough, the space wolf was standing beside his bed, his massive head resting on Lance’s ankle protectively.

“Kosmo! Oh, heyyyyy buddy!” He scrambled to hit the button that would sit him up enough to not end up crushed under Kosmo if he decided to jump up onto the bed. “Oh no! I don’t have any bacon!”

“I don’t think he’s going to be too disappointed,” a voice, that was not Keith, said from beside the bed.

Lance jumped… somehow he hadn’t been expecting anyone to be _with_ Kosmo… which was really strange now that he was a little more awake. He turned to face his visitor as Kosmo crowded closer, sniffing at Lance’s hands.

“James… Hi… Have you been here long? Sorry… I’m kind of… loopy…”

“Not even five minutes, Lance, relax. You need the rest.” He reached out to scritch Kosmo behind the ear, “I just couldn’t stall him any longer without running the risk of him just teleporting in… and you _are_ recovering from surgery, so I figure you wouldn’t want him popping in three feet above your bed like he does when I’m napping.”

“Is Keith back? I didn’t think he was due back yet…”

“Three more days. Kosmo has been staying with me.”

“He h- ooph!” He was interrupted by a whole faceful of space wolf as Kosmo reared up to lick at Lance’s cheeks. He couldn’t help but laugh. There was something about Kosmo being affectionate that made Lance feel like a little kid with a puppy. “I missed you, too, buddy!”

“Kosmo wouldn’t leave you,” James said, shifting in his seat. “I think it is safe to say you have a fan.”

“What do you mean, he wouldn’t leave me?” Lance asked, still being bombarded by doggy kisses, his fingers ruffling through the thick blue and black fur.

“When I got to you and saw… uh… the situation, Keith sent Kosmo to me, and he got you out of there… and then he stayed with you in the ship, and I had to drag him away so the doctors could work, and then when they were heading out again, he refused to get on Keith’s ship.” James smiled at the wolf, “he wouldn’t leave you. I’m surprised I’ve been able to keep him out of the room.”

“Oh… wow…” Hugging Kosmo tight, he willed himself not to cry. “I’m gonna be okay, buddy… you saved me.” Once he reined in his emotions he glanced over at James, “you both did. Thank-you.”

“Rumor has it that you don’t remember getting hurt?”

“Nope… I remember laying down cover and Shiro being on comms with me… and that they were trying to get kids to safety… and then waking up after surgery. Big blank spot in between.”

“They would not have gotten out of there without you, Lance,” James’ voice was low, and serious. “None of them would have. We were way too late. There were… so many Galra. You kept Keith alive. So… no need for any thanks, okay? Not for Kosmo, and not for me. We’re square.”

He got a kick out of giving both James and Keith a hard time about their relationship, and they’d been together long enough that he’d gotten used to thinking of them as a unit. They were both pretty private people, career focused and not prone to being all that affectionate around others, so it wasn’t often that he really thought about the emotional aspect of their relationship… and _obviously_ he would have tried just as hard to protect anyone, and… Keith was just… _Keith_ and that Voltron Bond ™ was still as strong as ever. But… to James… losing Keith on a mission would be like… when Lance lost Allura… and he tended not to think about Boy Band and Mullet in that context.

James wasn’t saying ‘you did what any of us would do, and so did I, so we’re square’. James was saying ‘you kept the man I love alive, and I got you out of there, so we’re square’. If he didn’t have Kosmo half-pinning him to the bed, he’d have tried to hug James (and probably blame the pain meds for making him sappy), but he did, so instead he just held out his hand. James arched an eyebrow at him, but he grabbed it and when Lance squeezed, James squeezed back. “I was planning sad poker,” Lance said quietly, “that was a good plan. We should do that.”

“What?!?” James clearly was not expecting that kind of response… and now that Lance thought about it… he hadn’t actually _explained_ sad poker to anyone, so… it kinda made sense that James was confused.

“When they were leaving. I was planning on inviting you guys over for poker, because I knew you and Roni would be worried and bummed out about being functionally single until they got back… and Shiro is always mopey when Keith isn’t around… and Kosmo is the best, and I hate seeing my friends sad… so… you know… like a regular poker night, but borderline depressing. Sad poker. It’s not complicated.”

“Yeah… that definitely sounds like something you’d come up with,” James said, his nod slowly morphing into a headshake. “You are really goddamn strange sometimes, you know that, right?”

“Says the guy who fell in love with _Keith Kogane_ ,” he pointed out.

“Keith is one of your best friends!”

“Yeah, and _friendship_ with Keith makes sense! Falling in love with him is _strange_! You’re like, the only person who has ever done that!”

“Oh my God, you are so fucking random!” James was laughing, which was… you know… kind of the point. Lance hated seeing that cautious pity in people’s eyes when they looked at him. He hated worrying people.

He was okay.

He wasn’t _great_ , but he was alive, and he was still _himself_ and that was what he wanted people to focus on. Not the missing leg- as nice as it had been.

“So… sad poker is back on. I’m hosting, so you guys need to provide snacks. I wonder if I can have booze while I’m on the good meds? Probably not. Seems like the kind of party pooper policy that the doctors would have.”

“Yeah, I know the answer to that one. No booze when you are on iv pain meds. That’s not even a secret. Everyone knows that, Lance.”

“I didn’t know it! Hey Kosmo? Buddy? Did you know that? See? Kosmo didn’t know, either.” He grinned at James, who just rolled his eyes.

“I’m not calling it ‘sad poker’. It’s just poker night, same as always. The only difference is that we are having it here.”

“Finnnnnne… You’re no fun, you know that?”

“I’m no fun because I don’t want to have _sad poker_? You get that that makes zero sense, right?”

“Hmmm… okay… okay… I’m kinda starting to see why you and Keith work. He’s a stick in the mud, too.”

“Keith!? _Daredevil Keith_ , is a stick in the mud!?!?”

“No one wants to hear about your sex life, Griffin.”

“I wasn’t-!!” Lance could _see_ him decide not to rise to the bait and it was _awesome_! James closed his eyes and took a steadying breath holding his hands out, parallel to the floor as he exhaled. “Nope. Not going to argue about that with you.”

“See? Stick in the mud.”

“Keep it up and see if I bring homemade blueberry muffins to poker.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“I would.”

“That’s _mean!_ I’m stuck in the med ward! You are _supposed_ to bring me baked goods! If Hunk was here, he’d be bringing me baked goods!”

“Yeah, I’m not Hunk Garrett, pretty sure you know that.”

He glared at James, who just gave him a little half smile. Downside of working with his sister? All their mutual coworkers were immune to all of his tricks, because he could never be as effective with them as Veronica was. It sucked. “Ugh, fine! It’s just regular poker night… and neither you nor Mullet are stick in the muds. Sticks in the mud? What is the plural of that? Not important.”

“There. Was that really so difficult?”

“Yes! It was excruciating.”

“Good thing you are getting ‘the good meds’, then, huh? I’ll talk to Shiro and Veronica about what night works best for poker.”

“You are an annoying little shit, you know that?” muttered Lance, fighting the urge to grin. James was treating him normally again, which was what he’d wanted in the first place. Rather than run the risk of a smirk breaking through and ruining the act he was putting on, he turned his attention to Kosmo, burying his face in the thick, soft, blue and black fur of his ruff. “You really wouldn’t leave, bud?” he whispered into the fur.

It was obvious that Kosmo had an intelligence that went far beyond that of a dog from Earth, they’d always known that. But… staying with Lance rather than accompanying Keith on a mission… that showed a level of comprehension and affection he hadn’t expected.

“At first, he kept trying to flash to your side until he realized he was getting in the way of them helping you. Then he was twitchy until Veronica showed up to tell us you’d woken up and seemed okay. I think maybe he could smell the infection or something?”

“Aww… I wish I had bacon! You deserve so much bacon!”

“You know Keith doesn’t want him eating bacon- too much salt.”

“Yeah, but I give it to him anyway. That’s why I’m his favorite.”

“I hope you don’t expect me to lie to Keith about that…”

“Nah- he knows. He can always smell the stuff. It’s kinda creepy.”

“Galra have a very fine tuned sense of smell. Keith’s falls somewhere between human and Galra. Most humans can smell bacon, Lance. It’s not creepy that Keith can.”

“You’re biased,” he muttered.

“About his _sense of smell_?”

“Noo, not about his sense of smell! That doesn’t even make any sense! Just.. in general.”

“How am I supposed to know what makes sense to _you_? Half the time you don’t make any sense at all!”

“Not my fault you aren’t smart enough to figure me out.”

James opened his mouth to argue but was interrupted by a burst of soft beeps. He paused, pulling out his datapad and reading an incoming message. “Crap- I have to go… I noticed a wobble last time I was out and the maintenance crew are stumped.”

“You can leave Kosmo with me!” Lance cried, dramatically throwing his arms around Kosmo and clinging to him.

“I wish I could, but I had to argue my way in here with him in the first place. He burned some bridges with flashing to you when we first got you here and has to win over the staff again.”

“Kosmo would never hurt me!”

“Yeah, I know… but they don’t. Sorry, Lance… if I leave him here, he’ll end up getting banned completely, and then I won’t be able to bring him back.”

“Fine… just… sneak him some bacon for me?”

“Keith would kill me!”

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“He really would.”

“Please? He saved my life and I always have bacon for him and now I don’t. He’s gonna think I don’t appreciate it!”

“He’s not goin- alright, alright. Fine. I’ll sneak him some _low sodium_ bacon.”

“Cool. My spot as favorite is safe then.” He gave Kosmo one last affectionate cuddle, laughing as the wolf licked his face again, and then… they were gone, Kosmo having flashed out with James.

As much as he loved visitors, two things always happened immediately after they left. The first was that his energy levels dropped like a stone. Within minutes, he went from alert and wide awake to foggy-headed and drowsy.

The second thing that happened was that his _mood_ plummeted.

He was sure that those two things were connected. It was hard to be upbeat when every breath felt exhausting and you could barely lift your eyelids after each blink. That didn’t change how much each of them _sucked_ and how much worse it was when they showed up like a one-two punch.

He was _trying_ to stay awake during the simulated daytime, so he could sleep at night. When he _didn’t_ sleep at night, whoever was camping out with him ended up keeping him company and not getting enough rest… and he’d be _damned_ if he let _his_ injury side-track either Veronica’s or Shiro’s career path.

So, as tempting as it was to sleep when they were working and stay up when they were around, he wasn’t giving into that temptation, even if it killed him.

Right.

Time to find some way to be productive.

His eyes lit on the wheelchair tucked away next to the folded cot. He wasn’t the greatest at getting in and out of it yet, but they’d stressed that it was an important skill to learn, even though he’d been pretty clear that he was opting to get a prosthetic if that was at all possible- which it looked like would be likely now that he was actually recovering from that infection.

A change of scenery would be good.

Thanks to physical therapy, he already knew _how_ to move from the bed to the chair. He knew what order to transfer all his tubes and wires and sensors from the room’s systems to the simplified version that was built into the chair. He was just… clumsy and awkward at actually _doing_ it.

He just needed practice.

He ran through the checklist of steps to get out of bed in his mind as he used the remote for the chair to summon it to his bedside. Despite the name, it didn’t actually have _wheels_ , it hovered and it was controlled with a combination of buttons and joysticks. They were a little… herky jerky… but manageable enough. Lance did fine once he was _in_ the chair.

It was the getting there that was the challenge.

He lined the seat and the mattress up perfectly and set the fuzzy blanket that somehow still managed to smell like Shiro’s quarters where he could reach it from the chair. Then, one by one he moved the various bags of _stuff_ that were connected to him to their appropriate hooks on the chair. Next, he used the remote to cue his sensor readouts and monitors to the mobile system. The nurses could still monitor his vitals and if there was some kind of issue, the chair would tell them where he was.

This skinny uncomfortable-looking chair represented his independence. It was his freedom from this damn bed and these four walls.

He was motivated!

He could _do this_!

He used to get top marks on the pommel horse stuff back during his physical endurance tests and that’s basically what he was doing here, right? Grab the far arm rest of the chair, brace his weight on his arms, and swing his ass into the seat.

Easy.

Right?

Wrong.

_So wrong!_

His first attempt had nearly ended in catastrophe because Lance hadn’t remembered to clamp the chair to the bed. The second he tried to lift himself up onto his arms, the chair had shot out from the bed, ruining any lift he was aiming for and leading to him half-rolling and nearly falling out of bed. Thankfully, it had stopped moving before it had pulled on any of the things plugged _into_ Lance’s body… he’d side-eyed the catheter with something close to terror when he’d realized that.

Second attempt was… better.

But, he’d ended up sort of tangled in leads and tubes and wires and ended up having to move back to the bed, fix everything, and try again.

“Third time’s the charm,” he whispered to himself as he pushed up on his arms.

It was very, very strange to move his right leg. It wasn’t as heavy as he expected, and it was both kind of numb and painful from the surgery and the medications. He tried to tense muscles he no longer had, to lift a foot that didn’t exist for him anymore. As a result, his body didn’t feel _right_ anymore and his movements were clumsy and disconnected, his natural grace obliterated.

He landed in the chair awkwardly, too much weight on his right side and the stump slamming painfully into the frame of the chair. The pain was a sudden burst of agony that made his vision white out and his stomach churn. Tears welled in his eyes and his mouth fell open on a silent scream, the sound choked out by the lump in his throat.

His leg.

_His leg._

He tried so hard to focus on the fact that he’d survived. That he still felt like himself for the most part, and that he had people who loved him and would completely restructure their lives to support him. But…

They’d taken his leg.

He’d come through so many battles and missions with hardly any training, as part of the primary focus and target of the single greatest military force any galaxy had ever produced. Sure, he’d gotten hurt sometimes and had ended up in a cryopod, but… never… like this.

Then he’d spent years on the family farm, and finally, _finally_ he felt ready to rejoin the real world and his _first_ assignment ends up…

He was just going to lay down cover fire!

He wasn’t even in the thick of the fighting!

He was supposed to be a non-combatant, for God’s sake!

How!?!? How had that ended up almost killing him?

Why??

Hadn’t he been through enough?

Hadn’t he lost enough?

God, this kind of thinking made him feel so fucking _ungrateful_. So many people lost so much more than he had. So many people hadn’t survived to be able to be fucked up and angry about losing a limb.

He hated it.

Hated how he couldn’t seem to let go of that childish, petulant sense that this was just _unfair_ , even though he knew that life didn’t work that way.

Fair and unfair were guidelines for beings with cognitive abilities and ethics, not for the universe as a whole. If there were deities, in the way he’d grown up thinking about them, they had much bigger, more sweeping issues to address than the health and well-being of Lance McClain.

He rubbed at the top of his thigh, hoping that the pressure might help mitigate the blazing pain that flared under his bandages and stole his voice. It didn’t really do anything, but he at least felt like he was being productive somehow.

The machines connected to him beeped and hummed, lights flashing a warning that his heart rate and blood pressure was climbing. Because pain did that. Pain impacted other systems. It couldn’t even be _private_. All the sensors and leads stuck into and onto him reporting every little shift in his body’s status to the medical staff at the desk outside. If they spiked or dropped too dramatically, a nurse would be in to check on him. To poke and prod and ask concerned questions and hum thoughtfully before offering some suggestion or platitude or punch a code into the iv machine that doled out his pain medication.

He felt so fucking helpess!

He just wanted to be able to climb out of bed, cross the ten fucking feet to the bathroom and relieve himself without… a tube in his bladder or a bedpan! He’d never expected that he would ever face a life where he’d be approaching thirty and having his ass wiped by virtual strangers.

Angry tears streaked down his face, the burning rage he felt leaking out in little hot teardrops and scorching his cheeks.

Angry was good though.

Angry was better than defeated.

Anger fueled change, that was what his grandfather had always said. It made you _have_ to _do something_. It didn’t allow you to be complacent or give up.

So, he latched onto it, used it to drag himself out of self-pity and get back on track. He dried his tears and focused his efforts on making sure he was properly situated in the chair. He’d come this far, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t getting out of this fucking room under his own power today!

Once he’d triple-checked that he was fully transferred over to the chair, was sitting properly, with no pinched tubes or kinked cords, or creased fabric under vulnerable spots, and had a good sense of the controls, he grabbed the fuzzy blanket and carefully tucked it around himself. Somehow, that blanket seemed immune to the weird medical smell of the room. When he held it to his face and closed his eyes, he could almost pretend that he was in Shiro’s quarters, laughing with his friends and his sister as he helped make dinner, or watching an action movie with his old friend.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and then released the chair from the bed. There was a little wobble and bob as the chair settled into its hover function. So far, so good. Anger fuels change, but patience yields focus. Huh… lookit, he was being all _wise mentor_ -ish… could you be your own mentor? Was that a thing? He didn’t think that was a thing. Whatever. It was good advice, no matter who was saying it. Put your anger to work for you instead of you being a slave to it… and don’t let impatience distract you from doing things properly.

Right. So, no more missed steps. Everything was moved over, so he was no longer tethered to the bed. He was comfortable… ish. He had the blanket because he knew that they were keeping his room warmer than the standard temp setting (he knew this because he’d heard Veronica scream at them about taking into account that heat was familiar and comforting and would reduce his stress… and Veronica got her own way, without fail). Nothing was trailing or looped or dangling in a way that it might catch on anything he passed. He had his phone for entertainment in case he needed to rest, and he finger-combed his hair, because… well, just because he didn’t want to look like a complete mess.

Okay. Good to go.

Very carefully, he tried the controls. The chair lurched dramatically to the right, tipping slightly and making him yelp in surprise, but it righted itself pretty quickly and he let his breathing settle down.

Man, the read-outs from his machines must be all over the place! He was kind of surprised (and maybe a little bit worried) that no one had come in to check on him with all the fights and the weird noises and such. Maybe he should mention it to Roni? Nah… that was liable to get someone fired. He didn’t want that on his head.

He loved his sister, but when she got protective, she was kinda ‘I wanna speak to your manager’... and nobody deserved to deal with that! Running through how the controls worked one more time, he tried for a stationary pivot so he would be facing the door, at least.

Yes!

It worked… mostly. There was like a five degree over-correction, but that was fine. Better than fine. He was doing this!

Bit by bit, he made his lurching, erratic way out of the room. It was pitiful progress for a fucking _pilot_ but he was too damn elated to be leaving that room under his own power to care overly much about his performance. There was a nurses station on his way out of the med ward and if he kind of maybe crashed into it a little bit they were too nice to say anything about it (although one of them did drop a datapad from the sudden loud noise. Oops.)

“Mr. Ambassador,” said Ezri, the Altean nurse that had hoisted him out of the bed for the first attempt at using the chair. She rolled her eyes, smiling at him, “have you been cleared to leave the ward?”

“Mmmmm… I dunno,” he answered, smiling back. It had been a while since he’d busted out the good ol’razzle-dazzle. Hopefully he wasn’t too rusty. “I don’t want to go too far, though. I’m sure it’s fine, right? I’m all hooked up and strapped in nice and secure. The chair even has a tracker!”

“You know you are supposed to ask one of us to help you get out of bed, right?” she sighed.

“Aww, but you guys already work so hard! And look- I didn’t need the help!” He flashed a stellar smile, eyebrow quirking upwards to _really_ sell it.

Ezri bit her lip, glancing at his chart before shaking her head at him. She checked the chart again and let out another sigh, “where are you going?”

Shit.

He hadn’t actually planned that far ahead! “Ummm… _home_? My own quarters, I mean. My sister and Shiro are great and all, but… I just… ummm… wanted to get a few little things from my own place. Nothing major. A couple of data sticks of music and movies, uh… my own pillow? And… uh… a small holo-projector with images of my family on it?” That sounded good right? Nothing too bulky or heavy… everything suitably sentimental to garner goodwill.

“Are you asking me what you wanted to get from your quarters?” Ezri countered, arms crossing over her chest.

“No?”

“You’re not?”

“Noooo… I’m… just… asking if those are… within reason.” Another patented McClain smile- this one the slightly wobbly, big-eyed one that had been so effective for dodging groundings. Ezri’s short nails tapped on the edge of her datapad and she eyed him critically. “I’ve been stable for ages…”

“Fine,” she clucked her tongue at him. “ _But!_ You have half a varga, not a tick more.”

“Deal!”

“I wasn’t done… you also have to give me your word that if you get tired, or start having pain, you _will_ hit the rescue button and let us come get you.”

“Sure. I can do that! I’m not going to need to though! I’m just sitting down and pushing buttons and moving a little joystick. Easy peasy!”

“Ambassador McClain,” she called after him as he backed down the hallway to get enough clearance to turn, “I’m serious!”

“I know!” he called back, waving.

* * *

So.

This was… less than ideal.

He had about five minutes to get back to his room… and he was exhausted. Like, ‘barely keeping his eyes open’ exhausted. Definitely ‘do not operate heavy machinery or hovering wheelchairs’ tired.

He needed help.

He glared at the rescue button. If he hit it, there was _no way_ they’d let him do this again… and he hadn’t really realized how much being cooped up had been wearing him down until he’d gotten out of that room! He did _not_ want to jeopardize that. So… that left messaging someone to come get him.

James? He’d have Kosmo, so that would be the quickest turnaround time… but then he’d owe James and they wouldn’t be square anymore… and also, James loved rules like some people loved money. So… not James.

Veronica? Uhhhh… nope. She’d turn into a complete mother hen.

That left…

Shiro.

Shiro!

Perfect!

He mustered up the last dregs of his energy and grabbed his phone, snapping a quick, smiling selfie and sending it off with the caption <‘guess where I am!’>

Sure enough, Shiro replied instantly. <‘Why the quiznak are you at home?’>

He grinned, the exchange had buoyed his energy a little and he didn’t feel quite so much like he was about to pass out. <‘Just picking up a couple of things Wanna walk me back to the medward?’>

This time, the reply was a little slower. <‘Should I tell Roni?’>

Shiro knew him so damn well. <‘I’d rather you didn’t’>

Another short lull before his phone lit up again. <‘Bit off more than you could chew, huh? On my way.’>

<‘U da best!’> He _knew_ he’d be able to count on Shiro! That guy was great. He was awesome. You couldn’t find a better man than Shiro! Lance was really confident in that, because he’d been all over multiple galaxies, met all kinds of remarkable people and epic heroes, and the only man who’d come close to being as awesome as Shiro was… was Sven- and _Sven_ was just Shiro in another (weird) reality. So, there was no wonder that Lance loved the guy so much, right?

Uhh… what?

Man, being cooped up in the med ward was doing weird things to his head. He was so pumped at being able to leave that room that he felt like he was back at the Garrison Dorms, sneaking off to meet up with Jenny Shaybon or something! It had been forever since he’d felt that little trill of excitement that he associated with minor mischief and teenage jitters.

A shockingly short period of time later, Shiro stepped through his door, crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned against the doorframe. “You look like death,” he observed mildly.

“My Hero!” Lance cried, throwing his arms up in the air in a faux cheer.

Which was a mistake.

Hovering chairs were not always the most stable of options, and despite that little burst of energy, he was _genuinely_ exhausted. The arms went up, the chair wobbled, and he got hit with a wave of dizziness that nearly knocked him out.

“Jesus, Lance!” Metal fingers cupped his jaw, tipping his face up as Shiro rushed to him. “Don’t faint… come on… nice slow breaths… there we go… slow and steady…”

The dizziness dissipated, leaving him blinking blearily at Shiro, who was crouched in front of him and had a familiar mix of worry, irritation, and relief in his eyes. “My hero?” he tried again, voice soft and a little wobbly to match the smile he mustered up.

“Oh my God, Lance,” Shiro muttered, his head dropping to Lance’s knee. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, smoothing his hand over Shiro’s hair, “I keep forgetting…”

“Yeah… I know. Alright, let’s get you back to your room. Is there anything else you want to grab from here?”

“Uh… I kind of want my poker set, but it’s kind of heavy and awkward.” He’d tried to put the pretty wooden box that held his poker chips and playing cards, but it had been too heavy and the pressure hurt his incision sites and healing muscles.

“How about I bring it by later, then?” Shiro offered, still crouched in front of Lance with his chin propped on Lance’s knee and Lance’s hand almost petting his head.

“Yeah. That works. Thanks, Shiro.”

He smiled and stood, giving Lance’s knee a little squeeze as he regained his feet. “You don’t have to thank me for that, Lance. I’m happy to help, you know that.”

“Yeah… but still.”

“Lance? Knock it the fuck off. I am just glad I can help, alright?”

“Ooh… an f-bomb! Super serious, then. Okie dokie, I get it, no more gratitude from me,” he teased. The first time he’d heard Shiro curse… like _really_ curse, he’d nearly fallen out of his seat. That was years ago, but it was still pretty rare to hear Shiro break out any truly _crude_ language. So rare that most of the time, Lance couldn’t resist the impulse to give him a hard time about it. Which was something Shiro was not afraid to exploit when he wanted a subject change or felt like Lance needed something to joke about.

It was weird how friendships, or, at least the really close, really important ones, tended to develop a language all of their own. There were ways that he communicated with Shiro that no one else would ever pick up on, but that were obvious to each other. Understanding the whens and whys of Shiro breaking out f-bombs was one of them. Shiro knowing exactly when Lance needed friends and family around or when he needed time alone just by how he was phrasing things was another. It wasn’t even reading body language and facial expressions like they’d learned to do way back in Voltron days. It was different, almost like a secret code, but one that had developed naturally over time. Like… a whole new layer to language. He had it with Hunk, too… not as much in the last few years, but it was still there. It was kind of cool… and he had gained a whole new appreciation of it lately.

“You need to be more careful,” Shiro scolded as they got moving, “recovery is going to take time. Healing takes _time_ , Lance. Time and energy. Your body is working really hard to adjust and heal- that’s why you get so tired so fast.”

“I know,” he mumbled into a yawn. He slumped a little further down in the seat, resting his head against Shiro’s hand where he had grabbed the chair frame for steering. “Pr’tek me from the scary nurse?”

“I’ve met all your nurses. None of them are ‘scary’. They are all lovely, kind people.”

“Ezri’s scary!”

“Ezri?” Shiro snorted and Lance could practically hear the eye roll, “you flirt an awful lot with Ezri for someone who scares you.”

“Disarm wif charrr-” another yawn gripped him, making him trail off. Whatever. Shiro got the gist. He snuggled into the blanket, giving up on trying to pry his eyes open again.

“Annnnnnd he’s asleep…”

He wasn’t. Not really. He heard what Shiro said. Understood it. Just couldn’t seem to muster the strength or the desire to correct him. He’d stopped noticing when the medical tech gave him his next dose of pain medications, but there was a definite difference between regular sleepy and the kind of sleepiness the meds caused. This was med-sleepy. He felt miles and miles away from reality, all warm and cozy. Kind of like he was floating inside of his own head.

“Captain Shirogane… nk-you for return… sador. He was suppos…”

“My fault… no need… worry… Clain…”

It was hard to track the conversation, but that was okay. Shiro would deal with it. He heard laughing, so that was good.

“... nce… Lance… Hey bud… Lannnnce…”

Something brushed against his cheek and he managed to force his eyelids to cooperate with his efforts to open his eyes but only for a second or two at a time. Shiro’s face had a weird strobe effect because Lance’s eyes wouldn’t _listen_ to him.

“Hey! Lance… come on… we’ve got to get you back to bed…”

“Mmmm… bed. Right… kay.”

“Need your help for that, Am-badass-ador…”

He giggled. That was funny! Am-badass-ador!

“There we go… waking up a bit now, huh?”

“Shiro?” He blinked, all slow and leaden, a few times. It was hard to focus, Shiro’s handsome face swimming in and out of his vision. “Whuh…”

“We need to move you back to the bed-”

“Oooh… bed… comfy…”

“Yeah, comfy bed. C’mon… I’m gonna help, okay?”

“Mmmm...kay…” Somehow, he managed to lift his arms, then he felt the familiar, careful way that Shiro lifted him and the almost-normal-now sensation of all the stuff attached to him being moved around. He could hear Shiro’s heart, sure and steady and comforting. He could feel the rise and fall of his breathing. It was nice.

He always felt so safe when Shiro was around. He could happily stay right where he was for hours… years…

The sheets of the bed were cold and he made a murmur of protest when he felt them, snuggling into the warmth against his side.

“Aww… that’s sweet.”

“Pushed himself too hard.”

“He always does better when you’re here.”

The strong arm around his back left, his weight settling further into the chilly sheets, a hand brushing through his hair. “MMmmnnnnoo…”

“Lance,” Shiro sighed, “comfy bed, remember?”

“Ssss’collll…” he whined, arms locked where they were draped around Shiro’s neck, “don’leave…”

“Lance… I have to wor- Oh… shhhh… okay… okay… I’ll stay for a little bit…”

He relaxed, arms slipping free of Shiro’s neck to wrap around the familiar shape of his floating arm. A soft, fuzzy warmth that smelled like Shiro’s place settled over him and he sank into the mattress, snuggling down as much as he was able without his leg aching. “Nigh’Sh’ro…”

“Sweet dreams, Lance…”


	3. Sad Poker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a disagreement over the best way to approach Lance's long-term recovery. Shiro reveals something very private.

The next few days _sucked_. They’d started to wean him off of his pain medication which would have been completely fine if they hadn’t also decided to up his physical therapy. So, he was sore for whole new reasons, and the PT always ended up making his stump hurt and the muscles of his stomach, chest and back ache, a sharper, buzzy pain sometimes settling into the almost healed surgical incisions that decorated his torso.

Polaski was a freaking beast!

No matter how tired he was, she managed to make him keep going.

No matter how much it hurt, as long as it wasn’t causing actual damage, she challenged him to push ahead.

It sucked, and it seemed futile, because if he was improving, _Lance couldn’t fucking see it_! He was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open after his physical therapy sessions, and _everything_ hurt.

So, as a result, he was tired, frustrated, and he ached when Dr. Bashir informed him that she thought he was now stable enough to be sent back to Earth to complete his recovery.

That did not go over well.

He’d… uh… well ‘ _pitched a fit_ ’ would probably not be an overstatement.

Dr. Bashir had been shocked. She’d been under the impression that he’d be thrilled to be going back to Earth, to his family, to better equipped medical facilities. He’d been too panicked and frustrated to explain his reasons with any kind of clarity. Eventually, he’d resorted to declaring that he was putting his foot down, and for some reason the turn of phrase was just one reminder too many and he’d… he didn’t even really know what happened because he was still hooked up to all the medical equipment and some reading or another hit some kind of threshold, setting off a shrill bleating from the iv pump and the next thing he knew his whole body was tingling and he felt like he was a million miles away from his body and then everything went black.

Turns out, tripping some kind of emergency sedation protocol on your health monitoring system brought conversation (arguing) to a screeching halt. Who knew.

Veronica was holding his hand when he woke from the unexpected sedation. She smiled sadly at him, her expression soft and concerned as she brushed his hair back from his face. “Hey, Lancey Lance… how’re you feeling?”

“Tired… thirsty… what happened?” He yawned, blinking at her. Shiro held a straw to his lips and he sipped at the water reflexively.

“You got upset, hun. Let that passionate nature get the best of you and the machines knocked you out.”

“What?” he squawked, inhaling a water drop and spiralling into a coughing jag that did an _excellent_ job of reminding him of all the surgeries he was still recovering from.

Veronica waited until he was breathing properly again, more or less, and smoothed his hair back… he was starting to think that was more of a nervous habit of hers than a way to comfort him. “Dr. Bashir wants you to go back to Earth. She says there are better facilities, you’ll have a better support network.” He opened his mouth to argue, but she anticipated that, pressing her finger to his lips like she thought it was an off switch. “I’m guessing from the impromptu sedation that that is _not_ what you want?”

He shook his head, one eyebrow quirking upward in silent question. Veronica pulled her hand back. “I want to stay on the Atlas. I need to stay here. I need to get back to work. I can’t _fail_ at this, Veronica. I can’t.”

“Lance,” Shiro said gently, “you lost your leg. You almost died. That’s not a failure. Needing to recover from that is _not_ failing! You saved so many lives. How can you think that’s a failure?”

“You don’t get it, Shiro… that’s okay.” Of course Shiro wouldn’t understand. He’d been a prodigy, blowing through records and expectations at every turn. He’d never had to hear his parents talking in hushed tones after they thought he was asleep about how to help him because he was falling short. He’d never had to overhear those same hushed tones talking about whether grief had destroyed him. _Such a shame. So much wasted potential._ His parents loved him, he knew that. His whole family loved him. So much. It was just… Veronica was a hard act to follow. She was amazing, and she set a high bar. “I can’t go home yet, Roni. Not like this. I can’t go back until…”

Her mouth pressed into a grim line, and with her eyes glinting suspiciously, she nodded, squeezing his hand. “Alright. You’re not going anywhere. I got you. Shiro?”

Shiro let out a long-suffering sigh that Lance instinctively knew had almost nothing to do with him and almost everything to do with recognizing the set of Veronica’s shoulders. “I’ll stay with Lance.”

“Roni,” he whispered, “don’t go all ‘let me speak to your supervisor’ on Dr. Bashir.”

“Oh sweetie,” Veronica cooed, kissing his forehead, “you’re an Am-badass-ador. You outrank her.”

Uhhhhh… he glanced at Shiro who just shook his head slightly. Well then… it looked like whatever his sister had planned, nobody was going to try to stop her… so… this was going to be interesting.

“Sad poker,” he said after a moment, trying to distract himself from wondering how the… uh… _exchange_ between Veronica and Dr. Bashir was going. “Never did get around to having sad poker. I think Griffin forgot about it.”

Shiro watched his face for a moment before shaking his head on a sigh, “alright. I’ll bite. Hey Lance? What’s sad poker?”

“I’m glad you asked, Shiro,” he answered brightly, shifting closer. Shiro took the hint and started brushing his hair back from his face the way Veronica did. Lance knew why Shiro had picked up the habit. He’d seen it settle Lance down when he was sedated and showing signs of distress. Lance had always loved having his hair played with, so he wasn’t about to complain that _more people_ were doing it. “Sad poker is something I thought of in the hangar bay when we were saying our good-byes before the Zar’dyn left. I was going to have a poker night… like regular poker night, but everyone was bummed about them going… so it would be sadder.”

“Ah… yes… Sad poker. I get it,” he snorted softly, “you’re always watching out for the people around you, aren’t you?”

“I mean… that’s kind of how I’m wired, yeah,” he smiled sadly, “it’s like… overwatch, without the gun. Safer. I’m good at it.”

“You are,” he agreed easily, his fingers slipping through Lance’s hair in a slow, steady rhythm, “not as good at letting us return the favor, though.”

“Why? Did _you_ want to host sad poker? Because… I’d be down for that, but you’d probably have to clear it with Dr. Bashir… and… uhh… I think she’s gonna be in a pretty shitty mood. It _sucks_ to have Veronica pissed at you.”

“How about… once you go home- to your own quarters, not Earth- I’ll start hosting _happy_ poker, and you can host the sad medward poker nights?”

“Deal,” he answered, grinning. “When should we start? We have to invite Boyband, too.”

“You know his name is actually easier to say than ‘Boyband’, right?”

“Mmmhmmm… and Keith is easier to say than ‘Mullet.’ I get how _words work_ , Shiro. What’s your point?”

“Nothing… no point,” he shifted his hand, resting it against Lance’s jaw and stroking his thumb over his cheekbone softly. “I’m sure you have your reasons for using the nicknames.”

“I do. They bug them.”’

“That’s it? Really?”

“Kinda?” He shrugged, “they take themselves too seriously. Keith and James both do- see what I did there? I used their real names! But also… it’s like… I dunno… I give Keith shit because I’ve always given Keith shit… but also… he’s like… Marco. Kinda. So… yeah…”

“And James?”

“Oh, that’s because he’s a pain in the ass brown-noser… mostly… but also… he needs to remember that we can hang out and shit, but Keith’s Voltron. He’s family.”

“You realize that you just told me that you see Keith as your brother and you give his boyfriend a hard time as a way of expressing your loyalty… to _Keith_ , right?”

“Pffft? What? I must be high! Pain meds, amirite?”

“James saved your life,” Shiro said, his voice going quiet and soft.

“Yeah… we talked about that. The day I got stuck in my quarters and you had to protect me from the scary nurse-”

“-None of your nurses are _scary_ , Lance!”

“Ezri’s scary, you just don’t see it. Anyway. Me and James talked. We’re square.”

“You _flirt_ with Ezri! You aren’t scared of her!” Eyes closing for a heartbeat, Shiro took a breath, held it and let it out. Lance could practically hear the ‘patience yields focus’ he just _knew_ Shiro was reciting to himself. “You’re ‘square’? What the quiznak does that _mean_?”

“It means we’re good. I got hurt laying down cover for Keith, James got me back here. Square.”

Shiro rubbed at his face, “of course that is what you two settled on. I don’t know why I’m even surprised.”

“Just be glad that we all get along now,” Lance pointed out, “Iverson had to deal with the two gay disasters confusing attraction for hatred, and me creating rivalries out of thin air and making poor Hunk puke in the simulators. We are… much easier to be around now.”

“I had to deal with the rivalry you created out of thin air, too, Lance.”

“But it was _charming_ by then,” he smiled hopefully.

“Yup. Charming,” Shiro answered, his voice dry, “like the terrible pick-up lines you used to try to woo a _princess_. Super charming.”

“I dunno what to tell you, man. I _did_ woo the princess… so, that worked. She… Allura… she loved me.” He felt a swell of nostalgia. Sometimes, he could almost hear her voice, she felt so real and present. Other times, she felt like a half-remembered dream… but he always felt her love for him. It was always a tangible thing for him, even if it was in his past, “she really did.”

“Yeah.” Shiro’s knuckles brushed over one of the blue crescents high on his cheekbones, making the marks tingle softly. “She really did. She told me once that you had greatness within you.”

“She told me that, too. Love is blind and all that.”

Silver brows furrowed and Shiro’s eyes went stormy. “What do you mean?”

“Just… rose-colored glasses, I guess.” He shrugged, “she loved me, so… biased.”

“I think she was right,” he said firmly, and there was something about his voice, the look in his eyes that made Lance feel… something. “I think she saw you more clearly than anyone else did back then… except maybe the Red Lion.”

“Don’t mind me,” he chuckled, not wanting to keep talking about this. “Meds are making me maudlin.”

Shiro knew better, he knew the way Lance’s mind twisted and turned when he started to think about the past and Allura. Knew how Lance deflected. And, thankfully, he knew when to _let him_ deflect. So, he just nodded, a smile ghosting over his lips. “Just the right mood for sad poker.”

Lance laughed, tension draining out of him. “Yeah. Perfect.”

* * *

Shockingly, Dr. Bashir held firm against the onslaught that was Executive Officer Veronica McClain. If it had been about literally anything other than him getting to stay on the Atlas, Lance would have been seriously impressed.

As it stood, they’d reached a pseudo-compromise. Lance would not be going back to Earth until (a) he was officially relieved by a new Ambassador to Altea, and (b) a ‘suitable’ escort could be arranged… namely that Keith, Acxa, Ezor and Zethrid were available to return with him (which unfortunately meant that they’d had a sudden change of plans the day before they were due to return to the Atlas).

Dr. Bashir seemed to be unaware of just how sneaky his sister and Shiro could be, though, so she hadn’t yet gotten suspicious about the slow progress.

Shiro’s professional reputation was working in his favor… and it was kind of funny to him that the ‘myth’ of upstanding, heroic, noble, by-the-book Captain Takashi Shirogane was so wholly believed, even by the people who worked with him. Shiro was a lot of things, but squeaky clean was _not_ one of them. You didn’t survive the gladiator fights without being able to effectively misdirect. You didn’t become known as ‘The Champion’ without being willing and able to be underhanded when the situation called for it. It was mind-boggling to him that so many people who claimed to admire Shiro knew so little about who he was… because, sure he was ‘Shiro the Hero’ whenever he could be… but it was so much more important and remarkable that when he _couldn’t_ do things ‘by the book’ he knew that there was so much out there that was so much more important than _rules_. Lance had way more respect, trust, and affection for ‘Shiro the fucking _Survivor_ ’ than he did for the knight in shining armor everyone else seemed to just… accept without question.

He’d signed off on Lance leaving when those two requirements were met, and Lance was sure that he’d stand by that agreement. Buuuuuuut, until that exact moment, Shiro was going to throw so much red tape and paperwork and delays to each and every aspect it was genuinely impressive.

And Veronica would help him at every turn and keep playing the ‘bad cop’ role of the annoyingly demanding family member so Shiro could keep sweeping in as the gracious, logical, sympathetic ‘good cop’ and make a ‘perfectly reasonable compromise’.

Lance had complete faith in Shiro… and it went without saying that he was one of his sister’s biggest fans- when she was putting that sharp mind and formidable presence to work helping him out.

So, in the time that they’d bought him, Lance was trying to prove to Dr. Bashir that he didn’t _need_ to be sent back home, that he could recover and _thrive_ right here on the Atlas.

There was no need to send him back to Earth. The Atlas’ medbay wasn’t a fully staffed and stocked hospital, but it was still a top rate facility. He wasn’t sick. He was recovering from an injury. The Atlas had physical therapists. It had mobility aids that Lance could use.

Most people couldn’t be fitted for a prosthetic for several months after an amputation, anyway. Some people opted not to use an artificial leg at all. There was no real rush for him to make that decision. The return date of the Atlas to Earth had been delayed while they investigated why this specific settlement had garnered so much attention from the Galra, but the plan was that they’d be on their way soon. They were waiting on the Blade to shuffle people around so they could pick up where the coalition left off, providing a solid protective presence on the surface _and_ in orbit. Another six months to make their way back meant that even if he stayed on board for the entire time, his first visit with an Earth specialist to figure out what kind of fake limb he was going to be using wasn’t much different than the usual timeline, after all.

He just had to carry his own weight. Work his ass off with Polaski. Push himself with the med-weaning. Be proactive about getting mobile. Start doing actual work during the part of the day when he was alone and bored out his mind anyway.

He could do this. He wasn’t afraid of a little hard work. He wasn’t afraid of pain. He was a Paladin of Voltron, Bearer of Allura’s Legacy. He was Lance McClain! He’d helped save all realities… _twice_!

He was a quiznaking Am- _Badass_ -ador, dammit!

One day blurred into the next. He spent his mornings bouncing between vid-calls with his family and off-ship friends, resting and working his ass off in physical therapy. Afternoon saw his medward room transform into a makeshift office and he was grateful that Ensign Kim was so damn efficient and that Coran was so eager to help any way he could.They were actually managing to get stuff accomplished from his hospital bed.

Once shift change happened, either Shiro or Veronica would arrive to eat dinner with him, sometimes accompanied by Griffin and Kosmo. On the rare occasions that neither were available, Giles and Laris would show up with junk food to replenish his snack stash and a big helping of all the gossip from Joodum sector where their quarters were located. Three times a week, they had poker in the evenings (James still refused to call it ‘sad poker’ proving, once again, that he was a stick in the mud who did not grasp dark humor- Lance and Shiro shared many eyerolls across the table over that).

He refused to let himself get sucked into fear and regret and self-pity. He refused to let Veronica and Shiro’s scheming and effort go to waste. He was laser focused on his recovery and his goals. He’d tried (albeit half-heartedly) to get Shiro and Roni to spend more nights at home. Neither of them really got great rest on the cot in his room and they were still taking turns camping out with him. As much as he appreciated it, he felt bad that they were upending their lives _so much_ for him.

Before he knew it, Ezri was presenting him with a cupcake after dinner one evening in a rare lull between visitors.

“Awww… this is why you’re my favorite nurse! Is this because I fell in PT? Because Polaski said she’d keep that confidential….”

Ezri cocked her head to one side and laughed at him, “well, I saw the report from your PT session and I didn’t know you fell until you just told me, so she did. No, silly… this is to celebrate two months of recovery.”

“What? Two months? That can’t be right!” He grabbed his phone to check the date and was shocked to see that she was right. “Holy crow,” he breathed. “Two months… since…”

“Two months since you almost single-handedly _saved_ a whole settlement from Zarkon Loyalists,” she said firmly.

“Really downplaying everyone else’s contribution to that, Ezri,” he muttered, staring at the cupcake.

“I think they’d agree with me, though.” Smiling, she pushed the cupcake closer to him, “eat it. I made it myself. It’s good. I promise.”

She’d made it herself? Wow. “Ezri, thank-you. That’s so sweet. I’m sorry if I seem…”

“You don’t. You seem like someone who’s been through a lot and is losing perspective a little. You did something amazing, and you were hurt, _but you survived_ and that is worth a cupcake, don’t you think?”

“Well, when you put it like that…” He grinned at her, peeling the cupcake out of the paper wrapper and taking a big bite. Chocolate cake and lime buttercream. Not the most common combo, but one he’d noticed a lot of Alteans really liked. It was tasty, and the buttercream was light and fluffy. “Yum,” he mumbled around the bite, giving her a thumbs up.

“You really like it? Humans have such different palettes…”

“I really like it,” smiling, he sipped his water, “it’s delicious… and I have spent plenty of time eating with Alteans, so don’t worry too much about my palette.”

“Oh good! I was worried that I might be stepping on toes, but I checked with your sister and I know your boyfriend doesn’t bake-”

“Umm? My… _what_ now? Boyfriend? What boyfriend?? I don’t have a boyfriend!”

“Oh… right… of course,” smiling in a way that was decidedly _conspiratorial_ she nodded and winked. “Forgive me for misspeaking. I meant… I know the Captain doesn't bake.”

What the quiznak was _that_ all about?? First of all- she thought _Shiro_ was his _boyfriend_?? Lance nearly choked… Shiro was his friend… and so fucking far out of Lance’s league that it was downright _funny_ that she thought they were together. Funny.

Hilarious.

Yup.

That weird feeling in his chest was just… him… trying not to laugh.

People really just did _not get_ the Voltron Bond ™!

“Shiro is not my boyfriend,” he said, wanting to make that fact very clear. “We are just… we’ve been through a lot together. We’re close.”

“I understand,” Ezri said, but Lance wasn’t convinced she did.

“I get why you might think that… he’s been so great since I ended up here. But… that’s just how he is, you know? He’s like… top tier friendship goals.”

“Friendship.”

She said the word like she’d never encountered the concept before. Wow… okay… this… might be an issue.

“We got really close after Allura… after she... Um, he helped me a lot when I was hurting. Or… well... we helped each other, I guess. He was grieving too.”

“Okay.” Her smile didn’t change though, and she wasn’t meeting his eyes anymore. She was… watching him play with the edge of the blanket.

The blanket from Shiro’s quarters.

That he kept close whenever he was alone.

… and had a tendency to reach for when things got difficult.

Shit.

Okay, so Lance wasn’t an idiot. He got that twining the hem of Shiro’s fuzzy couch throw around his fingers like a little kid with a security blanket probably undermined what he was saying. But, that didn’t change the _facts_ and the facts were that (a) Shiro was not his boyfriend, (b) Shiro had never _been_ his boyfriend, (c) he and Shiro were just close friends, and (d) Ezri was just misinterpreting things.

Not that he’d be _averse_ to the idea… like, as an abstract concept. What kind of lunatic wouldn’t enjoy having Shiro as a boyfriend!?! He was kind and brave and smart and… uhhh… yup. Mmhmm, _objectively_ Shiro had lots of great qualities. And he was… gorgeous. Like, just _unfairly_ hot. It was distracting and annoying, to be honest.

“He’s… umm…” Lance cleared his throat, because he’d sounded weirdly _sad_ when he started that sentence. “He’s my best friend. That’s it. That’s all it is.”

“Oh,” Ezri’s smile faltered, something… else… creeping into her eyes, “alright. My mistake.”

“It’s alright,” he replied, mustering up a smile, “I’m flattered that you think I could land Shiro the Hero as a boyfriend! Go me!”

She laughed softly, turning back to the door. “I’ve got to get back to work. Enjoy the cupcake… and forget I said anything. It’s a shame, though… you’d make a really cute couple.”

He was just finishing his cupcake when there was a rap on his doorframe and a familiar face poked into the room.

 _”Hunk?!?!?”_ He threw his arms wide, anticipating a signature Hunk bearhug. Instead, he got a ginger embrace with a tentative backpat. “When did you get here?”

“Just now,” he answered, choking up.

Oh.

Right.

“Hey… I’m okay,” he soothed, “I’m fine. I promise.”

“I’m sorry,” Hunk hiccuped, “I thought I was… but…”

“Yeah, I get it.” He smiled at Hunk, trying to reassure him. “It’s different seeing me in person than on a vid-call. It’s okay.”

“Still… not your job to make me feel better. So… Let’s start over, okay?”

“Absolutely! What are you doing here?” It would take a few days for Hunk to stop looking at him like that, but he would. He’d see that Lance wasn’t morose or broken and his eyes would stop drifting to where the sheets draped unevenly over his legs.

“Bringing new supplies,” Hunk answered, making a visible effort to bring his attention back to Lance’s face, “plus I’m helping out with an engineering project. We’ll be here for a few weeks.”

“Really?” He was sure that Hunk had said they wouldn’t be intercepting the Atlas until they were back in the Milky Way.

“Yeah, since you guys stayed on here longer than expected all kinds of plans got shifted around.” He grinned, “so I’ll be able to spoil you rotten with all kinds of goodies.”

“Snickerdoodles?”

Hunk laughed, nodding, “yeah, yeah… snickerdoodles. I know.”

“Awww yes! You make the best snickerdoodles… other than my Mom, I mean.”

His laughter faltered, and Lance could see him _remember_. Concern filled his eyes, worry creeping into his voice. “Lance? You’re really okay?”

He sighed, “well… yeah. I’m not _great_. I’ve been stuck here for two months, and I’m going to be here for a while… so… that sucks. But… I’m _okay_.”

“Really?”

“Yeah… the pain is mostly gone now. I’m doing physical therapy every day. I’m getting work done. It’s just… this is my life now.” He wound the hem of the fuzzy blanket around his finger, “it’s not going to be like this forever… but… it won’t be the same as before. So… I’m just… adjusting.”

“Do you… not want to talk about it? Should I talk about other stuff instead?”

“Hunk, no… I’m not like... that fragile.” Ugh, he hated this conversation. He loved Hunk so much, but… this was really driving home just how much he relied on Shiro’s understanding- of him, of what he went through, of what he’d lost. Sighing, he rubbed at his face. “I lost my leg. It sucks. A lot. But, I’m still _me_. Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay… okay… I know I’m being weird. I’m sorry. I just… I don’t want to make things harder, you know?”

“I know, bud,” Lance said with a smile, “trust me, I know you well enough to know that. I know you just want to make things easier.”

“Yeah,” he sagged a little.

“Right. Sooo… how about this? We pay less attention to my medical status and more attention to the same shit we have always talked about. Starting with… How are things with you?”

“Good,” Hunk answered immediately, “things are really great, actually.”

“Awesome… you mentioned an engineering project?” Hunk had been his roommate at the Garrison. They’d been friends for so long that it was beyond easy to coax him to talk. Unlike Pidge, Hunk had a knack for explaining complex, specialized tech things in a way that made sense to Lance.

Lance loved hearing him get passionate about ideas and projects. He knew Hunk enjoyed his work, and he was well aware of just how difficult the job Hunk did _was_ , but sometimes it was still hard to believe that it was cooking that had ended up being his career. He’d always just kind of assumed that ‘Team Punk’ was a professional inevitability… and then… Hunk had announced his new career path.

It was so good to see Hunk. So good to hear his voice fill the small room, his warmth palpable in the air. He’d missed hanging out with his oldest friend.

But, it was surprisingly exhausting. He was surprised when the overnight nurse poked her head in to remind him that, while they ignored visiting hours for ‘the Captain and the XO’ they couldn’t do it for everyone and it was time for Hunk to leave. This time, he got a _proper_ Hunk bearhug and promises to visit the next day, with either Shay or Romelle… and snickerdoodles.

He’d graduated from bedpans and catheters once he could consistently get himself to and from the attached bathroom with the help of a walker. He still had monitoring leads stuck to him, and iv medications to help boost his strength and augment his healing, but he was much more mobile and that did a lot to improve his outlook.

Getting cleaned up and changed for bed burnt through the last dregs of his strength and he was barely keeping his eyes open when he dragged himself back into the bed. He couldn’t understand why he was _so tired_ from visiting with Hunk! Sure, it always wore him out when James or Giles dropped by, but Hunk was _Hunk_... he was practically family.

“Long day, hmm? I brought you something.” Shiro’s fingers slipped through his hair and he smiled at the familiar shifting of the mattress that told him his friend had taken a seat on the bed.

“What did you bring me?” he asked, blinking his eyes open to see Shiro holding out a pudding cup. Specifically, one of Shiro’s personal supply of Japanese mango pudding cups. “Ooooh! I love these! Thanks! I just brushed my teeth though… so I’ll save it for later.”

“Save it for _tomorrow_ ,” Shiro scolded, “no more two am snacking Lance. It gives you nightmares.”

“I doubt I’ll wake up in the wee hours tonight… so I’m not even gonna argue about it. What were you up to? You’re usually here earlier…”

“Just getting caught up on inventory. I thought you’d want a chance to hang out with Hunk, one on one, so I took the opportunity to squeeze a little extra work.”

“You work too hard, Shiro.”

“Says the man trying to figure out a trade agreement between the Alteans and Unilu _from his hospital bed_ ,” Shiro snorted, rolling his eyes and giving Lance’s hand a squeeze.

“Right. So I know it when I see it.” Smirking, he plucked the pudding cup out of Shiro’s hand and set it on the tray table beside the bed. “Besides… my thing is temporary. Just until…” He trailed off. Sometimes, the plans he’d made for himself seemed so… hard. Was he just fooling himself? Was he nuts to think he could do what he was trying to do? Just talking with one of his oldest, closest friends left him feeling like he’d gone through three PT sessions back to back. He hadn’t even been _doing_ anything! He’d just been _sitting there_! Why was he so worn out?

Strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a hug. His shoulders shook as he tried to get his breathing to return to normal, but he clung to Shiro all the same. Face tucked into the soft collar of Shiro’s t-shirt, hands clutching at his back, gulping air like he’d almost drowned. Shiro made soft, soothing noises and held him tight, one hand buried in his hair and the other wrapped low on his waist. He just… soaked up the comfort, like raindrops on sand.

“I was worried about this,” Shiro said after a few minutes, “Hunk didn’t know where to look, right?”

He shook his head, trying to press closer.

“Yeah… it’s hard. It gets easier. It really does. And he’ll adjust pretty quickly.”

“Are you sure?” he whispered, suddenly scared that he wouldn’t. That from now on, Hunk would be making a visible effort to ignore Lance’s missing leg whenever they were in a room together.

“When… Allura put me back together,” Shiro said softly, shifting them around so he was sitting beside Lance, instead of across from him and pulling him back into his arms. “The galra arm was gone. It was the first time… any of you saw me without two hands. Hunk didn’t know where to look. Neither did Pidge… or Keith. But they all adjusted. So… yes. I am very sure that Hunk will figure it out.”

He let that wash over him, seep into all of the little cracks in his confidence that he hadn’t known were there. He could hear Shiro’s heart, even _feel_ the beating a little. Steady and even and familiar. Just like the arms wrapped around him, and the soft, encouraging voice.

“Did I?” he asked eventually, “back then… did I make you feel like…” It was hard to put the way he felt when Hunk hadn’t known how to _be_ around him into words. “Like… you were a tragedy I couldn’t look away from?”

Shiro sighed, and Lance felt him rest his cheek against the top of Lance’s head, “that’s what it feels like to you?”

“Kinda, yeah… and like I have to be… I dunno… _extra_ upbeat to prove that I’m not… _ruined_ or something.”

“You’re not ruined,” insisted Shiro, “you are nothing even close to _ruined_... and it isn’t your job to make the people who love you feel _better_ about _your_ injury. It’s your loss, Lance, not mine or Hunk’s, or your family’s. Yours. You get to experience it on your own terms, and your own timeline.”

“Kay.” It made so much sense when Shiro said it. It was just really hard to remember that when he wasn’t around. “Did I, though? Make it worse?”

“I hated how you blamed yourself for something that wasn’t your fault, and how much that hurt you,” he said carefully, “but that was different. The arm thing… no, Lance. You… just saw _me_. It never felt like you didn’t know where to look.”

“Good.” He felt like he could tip into tears so easily, but he didn’t. It wasn’t even like he was trying _not to_ , because he wasn’t. He just… kind of hovered on the edge of tears without his eyes welling or his throat burning. Bit by bit, that feeling receded, but as usual, Shiro waited for him to be the one to pull back… and he just… didn’t.

Eventually, he heard the clatter of Shiro’s shoes hitting the floor. It sounded so far away, though… and then he felt the bed and the blankets shift, but he was already too close to sleep to make sense of anything other than the fact that he never lost the comforting thump of a familiar heartbeat, or the warm strength of the arms that held him. Not even once, during the night.

* * *

“You are supposed to be at work,” he snapped, resisting the urge to throw a pillow at his sister.

“This is more important!” Veronica countered, voice calm but eyes flashing with the dangerous blue fire of her barely banked temper

“This is _none of your business_ , though!”

“Lance! Your health is important to me, too!”

“This isn’t about my health. You think I’m a coward!”

She reeled back like he’d slapped her.

Shit.

He really wished he could take that back… even if it had felt like the truth when he’d said it. He _hated_ hurting the people he loved. Hated it so much.

“I’m… late for work,” she muttered, tugging sharply on her uniform jacket. “We’ll talk later.”

“Roni… I’m sorry,” he tried, twisting in the bed and moving to stand without even thinking about it. It was only when he tried to kick a foot he no longer had that he clued in to what he was doing and froze. “Roni? You know that, right?”

“Of course I do, nene,” she answered. She was trying to smooth things over by calling him by a pet name from their childhood but her voice was brittle… which meant she was more upset than she was letting on. “Have a good day.”

“Thanks. You, too.” He watched her leave and then flopped back on the bed. He didn’t get why she was so stuck on this. What difference did it make that he hadn’t looked at his leg without the bandages? He wasn’t allowed to do the wrapping of the residual limb yet anyway. It wasn’t like he could ignore the fact that his right leg was just… gone. It was unavoidably obvious… and he was still trying to wrap his head around the new surgical scars that decorated his torso- pink and raised and feeling weirdly too-thin somehow. He knew he couldn’t avoid it forever, he just wanted a little more time to get used to one batch of scars before he had to stare down the other.

And it was _his_ fucking leg!

Polaski had decided that he needed to practice with a temporary prosthetic she’d had made for him by the engineers. Which meant that physical therapy was even more gruelling and frustrating than it had been. By lunch, he felt like all he wanted to do was sleep for a year, but he pushed through. The trade agreement was so close to being finished, and there was no way he was slacking off this close to finding a workable solution. There was a shuttle arriving from Altea any day now, and there was a good chance that his replacement was going to be onboard. Coran was trying to keep him from stressing out by leaving him out of the loop, which was _counterproductive_ , and he’d be damned if someone else would swoop in at the last possible moment and take credit for all of his hard work… so backing off on the negotiations was _not an option_.

Lance was an extrovert, he _needed_ people to keep from spiralling into dark places. Too much time alone drained him and wore away at his mental health. He knew this about himself, and that was the _only_ reason he didn’t beg off having visitors in the evening. As tired as he was, he knew he’d be so much worse without at least some contact with his friends… and he knew that it wasn’t fair to keep relying so heavily on Shiro and Veronica.

They needed breaks, too.

Thankfully, he had a wider social circle now. Hunk, Romelle, and Shay had fallen into his haphazard little visiting schedule easily. Then the Zar’dyn had returned and things shifted around again. Acxa had managed to convince Veronica that sleeping in Lance’s room every second night was not a great plan for their relationship. Veronica had dug in her heels until Shiro had insisted on taking her ‘shifts’ until Acxa left again. Even then, Lance had had to tell her that he’d never forgive himself for keeping her from her girlfriend before she’d actually relented.

Since then, they’d been butting heads.

It was probably a good sign, really. Arguing with him meant she wasn’t as scared of upsetting him as she had been. That meant she was more confident in his recovery. It meant she was starting to see him as just plain old Lance again, and not her sick, helpless baby brother.

But it was also frustrating and infuriating and… just… ugh! She was so fucking _stubborn_!

His mood had not improved by the time he was done with his clumsy attempts to ‘walk’ on the artificial leg. He was sore, tired , and cranky. Frustrated with himself, irritated with his sister’s bossiness, and just _on edge_. Usually, he insisted on getting back to his room using his walker, no matter how hard the session had been, but he was just… done. So, he’d settled himself into the hovering wheelchair and scowled the entire way back to his room.

Only to be greeted in the doorway by Kosmo.

The massive space wolf bounded over to him, licking at his face excitedly and instantly, he felt better. “Heyyyyy buddy! What’re you doing here, huh? Needed a break from Keith’s brooding? Can’t say I blame you on that. It gets to be a bit much, doesn’t it?”

“Actually, the pretty one had the day off, so Keith sent Kosmo with me,” Ezor said around a mouthful of _his_ caramel corn.

“Hey!” It was like she couldn’t come into the room without raiding his snacks!

“Relax,” she laughed, rolling her eyes, “you still have plenty. Man, humans have the best junk food!”

“Do you know how hard it is to get good caramel corn out here?” he grumbled.

“Yes. Why do you think I took some of yours? What’s up with the face?”

“It’s… nothing… I’m just.. Not having a great day.” She stepped out of the way so that he could clamp the chair to the bed and move himself over. “I don’t mean to take it out on you.”

“That?” She gestured between them, “that little bit of pouting? You call that ‘taking it out on’ me? You really think I’m that weak? Come _on_ , we’ve fought. You know better, McClain.”

“Not apologizing because I think you _can’t_ handle it, Ezor. I said I was sorry because you shouldn’t have to. My bad mood has nothing to do with you.” He stretched, trying to rid himself of some of the lingering aches and Kosmo took the motion as an invitation, leaping up onto the bed and curling into Lance’s side.

She blinked at him like that was an unfamiliar concept, and maybe it was. Even after all this time, they still occasionally ran into cultural differences that threw them for a loop. “Alright,” she said with a shrug after a moment, “what did she have you doing today? Was it the pool? I hated the pool.”

He laughed, shaking his head, “not the pool. I haven’t been in a pool a single time. I don’t know why you hated it so much, anyway. I love the water!”

“I hated it because it felt weird on my scars… and then because this,” she knocked on the metal of her own prosthetic, “is sexy and glorious, but it is also not even a little bit buoyant.”

There had been a time when Lance had seen Ezor and her compatriots as the enemy. Even after Veronica and Acxa had gotten together, he’d been slow to warm up to Ezor and Zethrid. His memory of the cheerful way they’d discussed torturing Pidge had been hard to get past. He had though. Over the years they’d gotten past that and slowly moved from ‘friendly’ into just ‘friends’ with no qualifier... but since they’d been back on board the Atlas, he and Ezor had gotten closer.

She was one of the few people whose visits never seemed to tire him out. “Okay… those are valid points. Kind of cool that your tech-leg is water safe though.”

“Makes bathing easier,” she agreed with a shrug, “so- you didn’t answer. What were you doing?”

He took a minute to gather his thoughts, but once he started talking, he couldn’t seem to stop. He gave Ezor a thorough rundown of his physical therapy session, only stopping long enough for her to interject the occasional comment. Sometimes she commiserated, sometimes she playfully chided him for his whining, or even to offer a counterpoint to one of his complaints.

It was nice to have someone to talk to who understood the specific challenges of trying to adjust to life without one of your legs. It didn’t hurt that, like him, Ezor was upbeat and extroverted, too. She cared significantly less about other people’s opinions than Lance did, though.

Not that he cared much about trying to explain to someone who was so guarded with her attachments.

“You look uncomfortable,” she observed as he wound down from his rant, “can I try something? See if it helps?”

“Yeah, sure. It’s not that bad though, just, like… achey.”

“Cool.” Grinning at him she rolled her shoulders and stretched her arms like she was getting ready to wail on a speed bag. Then she cracked her knuckles and shook her hands out, shooing Kosmo off the bed. “Okay- I’m just going to remind you that I am very happily married and have no interest in men. Smile pretty for me!”

With that, utterly confusing declaration, she winked and kind of… _dove_ toward him. He let out a very undignified squawk as one of her hands slipped between his legs, brushing against some body parts that had been very neglected lately. The other grasped the outside of his right thigh. “Ezor?!?!?”

“Don’t get excited, Paladin,” she muttered with an eye roll, swatting at his hand with her… uh… _head… tendril… thing?_. He’d never actually asked what that was…

“Okay… so… in humans… that’s-”

“Yeah, I understand anatomy, McClain. Easier to kill people that way. I’m looking for… Ah-ha!”

Her fingers dug into the muscle high on the back of his thigh and it kind of felt like she was pressing a hot ember into his leg. “Ow! Owowowowowwww… the fuck, Ezor!?!?”

“It’s a pressure point. For back pain,” she explained, “give it a tick.”

“Don’t have much of a choice on that, Ez,” he hissed trying not to pay much attention to the weird sting she was triggering. Kosmos whined in concern, nosing at his hand until he buried his fingers in the thick, soft fur behind Kosmo’s ear. “Not exactly in fighting shape right now.”

Her hands relaxed and the burning sensation faded out. “Other one won’t be so bad,” she quipped, shifting to repeat the rather intimate grasp.

“Other one!?!?”

“Yes, Lance.” She clucked her tongue like his auntie used to when he put too much sugar on his breakfast cereal… and… that was just as awkwardly high on the inside of his right leg as it had been on the left. Yup. Definitely been neglecting things of late, because he was _stupidly_ aware of just how up close and personal her hand was.. “You still have more than one leg… even after the surgery.” Looking directly into his eyes she nodded, brooking no argument, and he forgot all about how awkward their positions were.

He went quiet, barely even noticing that hot ember feeling as those words rattled around in his head. If anyone else, literally _anyone_ else had said that he’d probably… crumble. Ezor was different. Similar to Shiro, because Lance _knew_ neither of them saw him as incomplete and they both knew how it felt to be seen that way… but not exactly the same. His friendship with Ezor wasn’t forged in teamwork and shared intense experiences, so they’d had to find other ways to connect. One of the things he loved about her was her refreshingly cheerful way to be brutally honest and plain spoken (he’d never admit it outloud, but that candid streak was something she shared with Keith, and Lance had always thought it was admirable). She hadn’t said ‘two legs’. She’d said ‘more than one’. Pragmatic as always, and with the particular flavor of resilience he was coming to associate with Galran upbringing.

She seemed to know when the pressure point was done doing whatever it was that it did. Sitting back on her haunches, she dusted her hands off. “Should start feeling better soon. Zethy does that for me when I’ve been favoring my left leg too much. You gotta watch that. You don’t even think about it but it will _ruin_ your back if you do it too much.”

“I know,” he sighed, “it’s why Polaski has been pushing me to use the training leg. Doesn’t want me to pick up bad habits.”

“Don’t worry, stringbean. We’ll make sure you get a good one for keeps,” she insisted. “Turn it into a real shopping trip. I know all the tricky questions to ask. Did you know they tried to give me a sexy-cool cyber leg that _didn’t even have a hidden weapon_?!?!”

“Shocking,” he teased.

“I was all ‘are you completely snarloft in the quiznaking cranker!?!?’ Ugh!” Leaning back to support her weight on her… uh... head-tendril (he seriously needed to ask what that was called!), she shifted so that her artificial leg was resting where his natural one _should have been_. She moved her hands around in little flourishes, framing different parts of the high-tech limb like she was a shopping channel hostess. “This beauty has _three different_ weapons expertly hidden at all times! But if you tell anyone, I’ll deny it.”

He snorted, shaking his head at her, “yeah. I can see how Mullet fit _right in_ with you, angsty Acxa, and your fighty wife.”

“My wife isn’t ‘fighty’, she’s _ardent_!”

“Ardent? Seriously, ardent? What kind of awful, bodice-ripper kind of purple prose word is ‘ardent’?!?!”

“Yes. Ardent. It means ‘characterized by intense enthusiasm and emotion, often carnal in-”

“Ew, nope!” He whapped her with one of his pillows, “not finishing that sentence, Ezor! I need to be able to interact with Zethrid and we both know that you are prone to oversharing! Remember the time I asked how your day off was?”

“Hey! I was answering your question that time!” She argued, “if you didn’t want to hear the answer, _why_ did you _ask_!?!?”

“Vague answers, Ezor! Vague! Just pleasant, broad strokes… like: ‘oh, it was lovely’, or ‘I had an awesome day’, and then leave it at that! _No details!!_ ”

“Humans are strange. Can I have some more popcorn?”

* * *

“Hey Shiro? Are you awake?” he whispered into the low light. Hospital rooms were never fully dark, and even if they had been, the blue glow from Shiro’s arm only faded when he was sleeping (or close to it), it didn’t shut off completely.

“S’wron?” he mumbled sleepily, sitting up with a yawn. “Thirsty? Nurse? Bad dream?”

“No… nothing like that… just can’t sleep.”

“Mm’kay.” Shiro stretched, then gathered up his blanket and pillow and shuffled across the room, climbing into the bed with him, “make room.”

He did, scooting to the far edge of the bed as Shiro got situated beside him. Somehow, Shiro always seemed to know when Lance couldn’t sleep because his mind was racing with a million what-ifs that he had to voice before they’d leave him alone… or when he felt like he was adrift in open space, cold and impossibly far from everyone else in the endless vacuum. Lance never had to tell him which, he just said he couldn’t sleep and Shiro would either crack a dark joke to get the conversation flowing, or he’d crawl into bed next to him and offer himself up as some kind of… anchorline.

He had no idea what he’d done to deserve to have Shiro in his life, but he was endlessly grateful that he’d done… whatever it was. He curled into the sleepy warmth of Shiro’s chest, pulling the blankets right up to his chin and soaked up the comfort offered.

“Better?” Shiro asked through a yawn, his smooth metal palm running down the length of Lance’s arm.

“Mmmhmmm… better.” Normally, once he could hear Shiro’s heartbeat counting out sheep in his head, he’d drift off pretty quickly. This time, though, the arguments with his sister were weighing on him, making him feel alone even when he was literally lying on another person.

Shiro didn’t snore, really. But when he was not quite awake, but not quite asleep either, sometimes (most of the time) he made this soft little noise in his back of his throat that reminded Lance of a puppy just learning to growl. Years ago, he’d promised himself that when he had nights like this when Shiro was sharing a room, he _could not_ voice any of the vague fears that made him feel so alone once he heard that sound. It had led to him developing the habit of listening for it.

He hadn’t made it yet.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” he whispered into the dark. “About Veronica…”

It took Shiro a moment to answer, and when he did he sounded more alert than Lance would have expected. “You can ask me anything, Lance. I might not answer, but you can ask.”

“She’s pissed at me because I haven’t… ummm… like… really looked at my leg yet. I think she’s overreacting, but she’s really being intense about it and… I dunno… do you think she’s right?”

“Do I think she’s right about _what_? You said she’s being intense and overreacting… but you didn’t tell me what she’s actually _saying_. I’m guessing she’s pushing you to do it? What’s her argument, though?”

“She said,” he took a breath, wanting to make sure he didn’t misquote her. Most of the time, he’d just paraphrase and sum up their arguments, but Shiro was one of Veronica’s closest friends and Lance hated putting him in the middle of sibling argument to begin with, so on the rare times he did, he was always careful to be as objective as possible. “That the longer I put it off, the scarier it would be, and I couldn’t let fear make decisions for me.”

“Yeah, that sounds like her,” he said softly, moving his arm to play with Lance’s hair. “So, what’s your point of view?”

“I’m trying not to… like… get overwhelmed with changes. Sounds silly, but I have all these new scars and… you know, scars fade and get less… angry looking over time.” He trailed off, toying with the hem of Shiro’s t-shirt sleeve where it had been altered to accommodate the metal housing of his shoulder bracket.

“Lance, it is going to take _ages_ for the scars to look ‘less angry’,” Shiro coaxed, “I know you know better than to think you can just… wait it out.”

“I don’t think that,” he insisted, sighing, “and I know that I can’t avoid it or whatever. I just… don’t feel like I’m ready to see it, you know?”

“I do… but Lance, there’s a good chance you won’t ever feel ‘ready’ for that. No matter how long you wait.”

“You agree with Veronica, don’t you?”

“It’s not that simple… you both have valid concerns. The question you need to figure out is how to tell where the line between ‘being careful’ and ‘avoiding something painful’ lies… because once you cross that line, you are just setting yourself up for more pain.”

“I accused her of thinking I’m a coward…”

“Do you believe that?” Shiro caught his chin and tipped Lance face up to meet his eyes, “because if you don’t then apologize, but if you _do_ Veronica is tough, she can stew in her mistakes for a bit until she’s ready to apologize to you.”

“I don’t know… but… maybe I _am_ a coward. What if she does think that, but just because it is the truth?”

“Lance, there are a lot of things I don’t know anything about-”

“-cooking.”

Shiro huffed, glaring playfully, “my shortcomings aren’t the subject here, but yes… fine. Cooking.”

“I mean, you hear about people confusing sugar and salt all the time, and it’s funny, but I can see how that could happen. You mixed up balsamic vinegar and soya sauce! How!?!?”

“Mmmhmm.. I did. It was the worst salad ever. Can we get back on subject now?” Lance glanced at the quirked eyebrow and relented, nodding, “I was saying there are things I don’t know anything about… but I know _you_ and you are the furthest thing from a ‘coward’ that I can imagine. Got it?”

“Yeah. Got it. Thanks… I think the three am demons were getting to me. Helps to hear it out loud.”

“Anytime, Lance. Anytime.” Shiro smiled, soft and encouraging, “you think you can sleep now?”

“Actually… I think… I should probably look at my leg.”

Shiro gave him a little squeeze- communicating support and pride without words, and they rearranged themselves. The lamp was flicked on, sheets thrown back, and Lance found himself sitting across from Shiro on the bed.

“Ready?” Shiro asked, and Lance grabbed his hand, just needing the contact for a second to keep him… grounded in reality or something.

“Need a minute,” he whispered, “gotta psych myself up a bit.” His stump was wrapped in stretchy bandages, but under it was a nano-net of little sensors and contacts that rolled on like a sock and sent constant streams of information to his medical monitoring system. It also helped ensure that nerve damage was minimal and ideally, it helped increase his odds of being able to have a cybernetic artificial limb like Ezor’s that interacted directly with his own nervous system. He’d been taught how to wrap the bandages, but he’d always managed to avert his eyes during the time that the nano-net was off.

“You don’t have to do this now,” whispered Shiro, rubbing his thumb over Lance’s knuckles. “But I’m here as long as you need me to be.”

“I know. I do. I have complete faith that you’ll do whatever I need you to, Shiro. Always have.” Still, he didn’t move. He just stared at the bandages wrapped around the residual limb like they were some kind of impossible, unsolvable puzzle. He had no idea of how to _start_ \- not so much the actual unwrapping, but, like… making his hands _move_ to start the process was just… beyond him.

He had no clue how long they just sat there before Shiro let go of his hand. “I have an idea,” he said softly.

“I can do this,” insisted Lance, the words barely more than a breath, “I just… need a minute.”

“I know you can, Lance… but… just… hang on a sec…”

Lance nodded, still kind of stalled out in his own head and trying to find a way to put himself in gear. He wanted to do this. He knew he _needed_ to do it, and really, he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be able to do it with anyone _but_ Shiro… and there was no way he could do it alone… so… what exactly was the problem? Why couldn’t he make his hands move? Why couldn’t he figure out how to push through the nerves and the worry?

He’d faced down some truly terrifying things in his life and never been one to choke up.

How were some bandages getting the best of him?

“Lance?” Shiro’s voice was so soft, so tender and compassionate, and laced with something… _shy_. His fingers rested against Lance’s jaw, warm and solid. “It’s probably not as bad as you are expecting… here… look…” The barest brush of his thumb over the corner of Lance’s mouth led into a gentle nudge.

It was a tiny gesture, but it was enough to break whatever spell Lance had fallen under. He blinked, his gaze flicking up to Shiro’s face. He looked nervous, that shyness Lance had noticed creeping into his features. “Shiro?”

“See? Surgical scars aren’t so bad,” Shiro whispered, bashful but encouraging, and it was only then that Lance realised what he’d done.

There was no pale blue glow from Shiro’s prosthetic emitter… because he’d taken it off. The metal casing and the electronics it protected sat on the tray table beside the bed along with Shiro’s t-shirt. For the first time, Lance could see the actual amputation that Shiro had undergone.

He’d heard the story of how Shiro had lost his arm years before. When the pain of Allura’s sacrifice had still been thick and cloying, making him feel like he was slogging through a rip tide that threatened to pull him under with every step, he’d mostly stuck to the family farm in Cuba, but occasionally, Veronica could lure him back to the Garrison for a week or so. He and Shiro spent a lot of time together back then, leaning on one another as they worked through their _complicated feelings_ about the loss of people they’d given their hearts to.

Shiro knew what it was like to be _furious_ at someone you loved for being a good person... a hero. He knew the burden of feeling like he wasn’t _entitled_ to his grief.

Allura had saved all realities, restored worlds. Her quintessence existed in every atom of every reality. She wasn’t really _gone_ so how dare he mourn?

Adam was Shiro’s ex. They weren’t together because when Shiro was faced with a choice between his dream and his relationship, he’d chased his dream. He hadn’t chosen Adam, so how dare he mourn?

Adam and Shiro had broken up because Shiro had _fought_ to go to Kerberos even though it was almost certain he wouldn’t survive. Adam had climbed into the cockpit, knowing he would likely die. So, Shiro felt like a hypocrite for being so angry that Adam had made the same decision he had.

Allura had sacrificed herself to save everyone else. So, Lance felt _evil_ for resenting that choice.

They’d both dealt with inescapable, crippling grief that they didn’t feel like they were really allowed to _feel_ , let alone _express_... and it was amazing the kind of painful shit you would dredge up to talk about when you were hurting like that, but so, so, so sick of talking about it, thinking about it, _feeling_ it.

So, one night, up on the roof of the Garrison dorms listening to music and stargazing with a case of beer like a couple of cadets, Lance had talked about the encounter with Bob… and Shiro had talked about his time as The Champion, and how he’d gotten his Galra arm.

Lance had always assumed it had been injured beyond repair in a fight, but he was wrong. The Galra had amazing medical tech, but they didn’t waste it on prisoners. Shiro though, had become a crowd favorite in the Gladiatorial Rings. So, when his genetic condition impaired his ability to fight, they intervened. He’d been sedated, but not very well, so he still had some memories of the procedure that had rewritten that genetic anomaly and replaced the nearly useless atrophied arm with his first prosthetic.

There had been no discussion, no warning. Prisoners didn’t get to have any say in their medical care. He’d been medicated just enough to ensure he was still and quiet (and Shiro suspected that even that small mercy was an act of rebellion on Ulaz’s part, not the typical situation) and when the haze cleared, he had a weaponized, high tech artificial arm.

At the time, Lance had thought it sounded horrific.

Now, after losing a limb, himself, he knew… horrific didn’t even come close. Lance didn’t have _words_ in any of the languages he knew, to describe how that must have felt.

That artificial arm had been ripped 8off while Shiro’s consciousness… essense… soul… or whatever had been stuck on the astral plane, and once they were back on Earth, he’d had another surgery. They’d removed the last remnants of the Galra arm, including the leads and interfaces that had made it feel like part of his body. Initially, it had been amputated just above his elbow, but now…

The entire arm was gone. There was a tidy surgical scar that reminded Lance of an anchor where Shiro’s right arm should be. Small metallic discs surrounded the pale scars- connection points for the tech he’d set aside to help Lance. It all looked so… neat and clean and harmless. Not at all like the lingering evidence of something so traumatic.

“You had a really good surgeon,” Shiro pointed out, “and she said that everything went well.” He caught Lance’s hand and brought it to his shoulder, “these are old… but even new and fresh, yours probably look a lot like this. See? Not that awful, right?”

“Shiro,” he whispered, awed by what his friend was doing for him. Shiro hated to be seen as weak or damaged, but here he was, exposing scars Lance _knew_ he was self-conscious about… that were tied to such awful memories and living nightmares. He touched a fingertip to the raised, silvery skin, watching for Shiro’s reaction. He jolted a little but smiled and nodded, giving Lance permission to continue.

He wasn’t sure _why_ he felt such a need to touch the scars, the shoulder socket, the little shiny discs set into the skin, but he did. He _had_ to touch them- soft and curious- to really believe that they weren’t his imagination messing with him. There were smaller scars radiating out from the joint, all of them terminating in more small little dots of metal and placed so they’d be hidden by the emitter casing.

“They help transmit nerve impulses… so it feels like my own arm, my own hand. It’s not perfect, but I barely notice the difference anymore,” he explained softly.

“Does it feel… wrong? Me touching here… with the scars and everything, I mean…”

Shiro’s face went still for a moment, his eyes unreadable in the low light. “No, Lance,” he answered eventually, “not wrong… just… not used to the casing being off.”

“Kay…” He pushed and pulled at the skin slightly, watching how the muscles yielded and the little discs moved from the pressure.

Shiro didn’t say anything, he just let Lance do whatever he needed to to make sense of what he was seeing and how it might translate to his own scars. They sat in silence for what felt like a very long time before Lance finally withdrew from his exploration and took a deep, steadying breath.

“Ready?” Shiro asked, tipping his face up to meet his eyes again.

“Yeah,” he answered. “Yeah. Okay. I can do this.” Lance mustered up a smile, “you showed me yours, I gotta show you mine now. That’s how things work. It’s only fair, right?”

“Only you would act like this is some schoolyard game of ‘doctor’ between little kids…”

“Not exactly where my head was, but that works, too,” Lance answered with a chuckle, feeling himself relax with every little huff of laughter. Before he even realised his hands were moving, he’d begun unwrapping his leg. Bandages relaxed into a ruffling, twisted pile on the mattress beside him. Shiro had tried to help by winding the unspooled length into a tidy roll but quickly gave up- Lance was undoing things faster than he could keep up with with only his non-dominant hand.

He quickly reached the nano-net that was the last thing hiding his new reality from him. His breath hitched, but he didn’t stop, afraid that if he took even a second he’d lose his momentum and stall out. He barely even registered the warm weight of Shiro’s hand settling on his shoulder or his whispered encouragement, but he honestly couldn’t fathom doing this for the first time without Shiro being with him for it.

The nano-net rolled off his leg easily, the sensation familiar from the many times medical personnel had done the same thing to check for pressure sores, rub the muscles to prevent or alleviate swelling, and monitor the healing of the incisions.

And then it was done.

Shiro squeezed his shoulder softly, then brushed his knuckles along his cheekbone, setting off a tingling burst of sensation in the mark there. “Lance?” he whispered, “open your eyes. You got this.”

“Oh.” The habit was so ingrained now that it was automatic. His field of vision was filled with Shiro’s supportive, handsome face, still sporting one or two little creases pressed into his cheek by his pillow. It felt like it had been _hours_ since Lance had roused him from the cot, but time never really made any sense when you were upset in the dead of night. “Right.”

Stealing one last glance at Shiro’s shoulder to bolster his courage, Lance finally took a look at what remained of his right leg.

“Ohhh…” It looked so… wrong.

None of his imaginings seemed to come close to the jarring sensation of seeing the reality. His brain kept trying to fill in the emptiness, creating flashes of memory so sharp and real that for an instant he thought he could see… but then it was gone…

Like a ghost.

His knee and calf and ankle and foot were all like… ghosts.

Gone… but… somehow still present enough in his mind that he could see _echoes_ of how it was supposed to look. He leaned into the warmth of Shiro’s hand against his face, soaking up strength and support from the small comforting connection. There was a long scar running up the inside of his thigh, it was probably the same pink as the ones on his torso, but the light was strange and it looked almost like a shadow. He could feel the difference though, even just from the way the air moved over his skin. “Why?”

“Compartment syndrome,” Shiro answered, “they had to do a fasciotomy to keep the swelling from crushing the muscle.”

“I… oh God,” he shook, hand rising to cover his mouth, “I really almost died, didn’t I?”

“Yes.” Shiro didn’t hide from the truth, and he didn’t do a whole lot to soften it, either. That was a good thing… it was too easy to hide from some things, and too important to face reality. Lance could hear the fear and pain in his voice, Shiro had to have been terrified to sound like that so long after the accident. “It was a very close call, Lance.”

“I mean… I knew that… but… Oh my God, Shiro…” He touched his own leg and flinched at how alien it felt, but he didn’t stop. He slid his hand across the line of scar tissue, fighting the urge to gag at the weird, unnerving garble of sensation that gave him chills and made his gut lurch. It felt so strange and unfamiliar under his hand. He was almost unable to force his fingertips to curl around the tapered curve of his residual limb but he pushed through.

Carefully, he mapped out the scars where his skin had been wrapped around the new end of his leg and fitted together to reform the limb. The scars all gave him that skin-crawly feeling he hated, but they didn’t hurt, which he was only just discovering he’d been afraid of. He couldn’t see them without a mirror, or his phone’s camera… but he wasn’t sure he could handle that at the moment anyway.

This was better.

He had to relearn his body and this seemed like a much better start to that process than graphic visuals would be.

Still…

“Feels so… weird…”

“Can I… try something?”

He should have known Shiro would find a way to help him when he struggled. Should have known he could count on him to find _some_ way to make even the worst things just a little better. So, he nodded, no questions needed.

The hand left his face to cover his own, “try a little more pressure. Too soft can feel like… bugs or something…”

“Well, I _wasn’t_ thinking about bugs crawling on me, but _now_ I am, so thanks for that,” he muttered. Weirdly, that made him feel more like himself.

“Sorry, there’s no way to describe that without gross imagery. Trust me, I’ve tried.” Shiro pushed on his fingers and… what do you know? He was right.

It wasn’t a whole lot more pressure, but it definitely felt more substantial and normal and the heeby-jeeby sensation pretty much vanished.

“Better, right?”

Tears in his eyes, Lance nodded again. It did feel better, but it also felt more like his own leg he was touching… that ended far too soon.

“Okay… that’s enough… you need to rest, Lance… and it’s not good to get too upset. Let’s get you settled away for the night, okay?”

“Hang on,” he managed, “I’m not… done.. That’s not… I haven’t felt all of it yet. I need to feel all of it.”

“Are you sure? Really sure?”

“Yeah. This is… me… now. I can’t _not know_ , you know?”

“I do. I know how that is. Whenever you are ready, Lance.” Shiro lifted his hand away and gave Lance a little space without really moving away at all. He turned his attention to rerolling the snarl of bandage, which seemed kind of cumbersome to do one-handed, but he managed. Lance could feel the tender weight of his gaze every few minutes, though, ready to offer comfort if it was needed.

It didn’t take long to satisfy Lance’s curiosity. He traced out the not-quite-familiar lines of hard-earned muscles, first with his fingertips, and then with his palms. There was another long scar running up the back of his leg.

Fasciotomy.

That’s what Shiro had called it, and it had been years since he’d taken a biology class, but he’d watched plenty of medical dramas with his mother and sisters over the years, so he could puzzle out the meaning of the word easily enough. Those scars were from the thing that had let him keep as much of his leg as he had… they might even have been the deciding factor on whether he survived his injuries in the first place.

No matter how ugly they were, or how weird they felt, Lance decided, then and there, that he was going to be grateful for them… and… if they _stayed_ ugly, he’d get something awesome tattooed over them or something.

Somehow, Shiro knew when he was done without him saying anything and handed him the nano-net before he could even think to ask for it. He helped Lance keep his balance as he rewrapped his leg and then Lance helped him reattach his own prosthetic. The look of relief on Shiro’s face when he had two functional arms again was incredible. Seeing it made Lance think that maybe, someday, he’d feel the same comfort with his own changed body as Shiro felt with his prosthetic.

The metal fingers were gentle and familiar when they slid through his hair, anchoring him in reality. “You want some space?”

“Not really,” his voice wobbled a bit, despite his best efforts to sound calm. “I’m trying so hard to be grateful that it’s not worse… but…”

“But it still sucks,” he finished and Lance nodded. “You don’t have to be grateful around me, you know that, right?”

“Yeah,” he sniffled, wiping away a tear, “it’s not a you thing, it’s a me thing. I was finally back to feeling like _me_ again, you know? Not all… lost in my own pain… and I just… I don’t want to go back to that. I just… I just want to still be _me_.”

Shiro pulled him into a warm hug, and Lance hid his face in the soft cotton of Shiro’s t-shirt. “You’re still you, Lance. I promise. I see you. You are doing so well. You really are. This isn’t like… before. I know you and I can see that this is different.”

“Really?”

“I swear,” he insisted, “you are so strong, and you are working so hard. Lance, I… I’ve known you for a long time. One of your _best_ traits is how deeply you feel things, that you _let_ yourself feel things that deeply. It’s amazing, and it’s why you are going to get through this without losing yourself.” Still hugging him, Shiro threaded his fingers through Lance’s hair again, knowing how well that worked to reassure and calm him. His voice was soft, but raw with conviction. There was no way Lance could doubt anything he was saying. It was too earnest, too sincere. “You don’t have to feel grateful all the time. You can be angry, or scared, or sad, or… whatever. I know you don’t want people to see it, but when I’m here you can just… be _you_ and let yourself feel it, so you can heal from it. I’m never going to think less of you for it. I’m never going to judge you… and I _promise_ you, I won’t let you get stuck in the pain.”

“You’ve got me,” Lance whispered into his shoulder, thinking back to all the times they’d made each other similar promises… and kept them.

“I got you,” he confirmed, “now, let's get back under the covers and try to get some rest, okay?”


	4. Voltron Phone Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery is not linear. Pidge has been busy. Lance makes a discovery.

Lance avoided visitors for the next few days. He felt shaky and raw, and he was trying to process all the emotional stuff he’d stirred up that night. His social circle shrank back down to only his sister and Shiro because just the thought of being around anyone else left him feeling exposed and too vulnerable. He shifted his focus to concrete things he could work on and feel like he was making progress with.

Physical therapy and his work.

Not that he felt like he was making spectacular strides in PT… but _work_ , at least. Work was going well.

And it wasn’t like he was turning into a complete hermit! He still spent the evenings with Veronica and/or Shiro, and when Veronica went home, he and Shiro would talk for ages before one of them dozed off and the other followed shortly behind. Everyone was always talking about how emotional and psychological healing wasn’t linear… he was just… dealing with a lot and he had to figure out what worked best for him.

That lasted five entire days.

“Wakey wakey, Lancey-Lance!”

“Sh’ro?” Confused, he rubbed at his eyes, yawned and forced himself to pay attention to the world around him. Was there a new nurse? What was going on?

“ _Shiro_?? Really?!?! That’s a first! I’ve never been confused with him before.”

Hold on… he knew that voice… “Pidge!?!?”

“There it is! Wow- it takes a long time for your brain to kick in nowadays. You’ve gotten rusty, McClain.” Pidge was sprawled over one of the visitors’ chairs, which she’d flipped around so she could both straddle and rest her chin on the back. “I can’t believe you thought I was Shiro!”

Yawning again, he flapped his hand at her. “Didn’t think you were him,” he said when his jaw started cooperating again, “was trying to ask him what was going on.”

“He’s not here, Lance,” she pointed out. “Wait- is he _usually_ here when you wake up? Oh my God, is that why you have a cot in here? Is Shiro _sleeping here_ every night?”

“Ummm… yes?” He didn’t think that was a secret. He had to have mentioned it to Pidge in one of their vid-calls, right? Yeah, for sure. She was just fucking with him, because she thought it was funny.

“Seriously??” He didn’t have to speak, she seemed to glean the answer just from his face, rolling her eyes and rocking back on the seat with laughter. “Holy shit, the two of you are just… Yeah. That makes perfect sense.”

“What?” He smelled coffee. Hold up! He smelled _good coffee_! “Did you bring me coffee?”

“Course I did! What am I, an animal? I know the god-awful sludge they try to pass off as coffee here. You really think I’m going to visit you and not bring you the good stuff?”

“Gimme!” He made grabby hands at her as he dragged himself up to sitting. “God, that smells good! Roni won’t bring me coffee. Says I shouldn’t have stimulants while I’m healing.”

When she heard that, Pidge stopped mid-pass, the mug held just out of his reach. “What? Why? Are you not allowed coffee?”

“No! Dr. Bashir says I can have it! It’s just my mother said she worried about the strain on my heart and then Roni got it into her head that since Mom isn’t _here_ she needed to get on my case on her behalf. I can have coffee. I swear Pidge, I can. _Gimme the coffee, Pidge_.”

“Swear it on your Mercury Game Fluxx?”

“What? Yeah, yeah, I swear it on the _game system_ weirdo!” He leaned over, trying to reach the mug, but she stepped back.

“I mean it! I’m _not_ getting in shit with your sister over coffee!”

“Fine! I swear on my Mercury Game Fluxx that I’m allowed to have coffee and Veronica is just being overprotective. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Pidge handed him the coffee, but scowled, “too soon for the dying talk, asshole.”

“Sorry… didn’t mean to freak you out.” What was it about coffee that _smelled_ so damn good? He let his eyes drift shut, breathing in the beloved aroma before taking a sip. Rich flavor burst on his tongue, distinct and sweet and he sighed happily. “Caffè al ginseng, oh my sweet, precious baby, I’ve missed you so much!”

“Lil intense there,” teased Pidge, “I’d tell you to take it back to your room, but you apparently already have a roommate in here.”

“Har-har.” He had ginseng coffee, it was going to take more than that to dampen his good mood. “I’ve told him that he should sleep at home more. He says he’ll do that when Acxa leaves and Roni can take a turn.”

“That cot can’t be comfortable for him. That thing is _tiny_ and Shiro is anything but.” She sipped her own coffee, eyeing the cot with it’s carefully stacked pillow and carefully folded bedding.

“He says it is.”

“Why is he sleeping here at all, though?” Worry in her eyes, she turned her attention back to him.

Lance half-shrugged, “habit maybe? From when they were waiting for me to wake up?”

“Lance that was ages ago… but I meant more like: do they not have nurses at night, or…”

When Pidge curled into herself like that, she looked so small and young. It reminded him of when they were brand new Paladins. “Orrr?”

“Are you not sleeping at night?” It was barely more than a whisper, but he heard it, heard the fear in her voice. “Is pain keeping you up? I know phantom limb syndrome is more common after an emergency amputation and-”

“Pidge, stop. It’s not that. Okay? I think he’s trying to make sure Veronica doesn’t work and worry herself into an early grave, that’s all.” As much as he loved and craved the Voltron Bond ™ there were definite downsides. Like the fact that he knew Pidge well enough to know that she wasn’t buying what he was selling… and that she knew _him_ well enough to know that what he was selling was a whole lot of misdirection. He hated admitting how much he was leaning on Shiro, but Pidge was Voltron. She was connected to that astral plane bond he still felt little ripples of. She was integral to that link that helped fill the empty spot that used to house his Lion. He didn’t have to hide it from her. “I do better… at night… when I’m not alone.. And I’m not having phantom pains, it’s not a physical thing… just…” He shrugged, “Shiro’s still here because I still need him to be.”

“Dark, middle of the night, messy emotional bullshit?” She guessed. He nodded. “Does it really help _that_ much?”

“Having Shiro to talk to when my head gets bad enough to keep me awake? Yeah.” He took a breath, reflecting. “He’s my best friend and that helps a lot.”

“Way to play favorites, jackass! I should take my coffee and leave! So insulted. So hurt.”

“Aww c’mon Pidgey, don’t be upset! You know what I meant! You guys will always be my besties… but… after everything… Shiro is… we just… we see each other more, hang out more… and there are things he can understand that… not many people can...”

“Well, I _was_ joking, but… okay, yeah. I guess you two have some very specific things in common.”

“Yeah. Not many people out there that can relate to some of the shit we’ve been through… even you guys...”

“Way to make things dark… yikes,” Pidge smirked at him, “okay, serious question time- if I hug you right now, are you going to be chill? Or are you gonna tell everyone and ruin my reputation?”

“I’m always chill,” he pointed out, “but… what the fuck reputation do you _think_ you have?!?! You are a hugger, Pidge. A good chunk of the intergalactic population has witnessed you _scaling Shiro like he’s a tree_!”

“That bug was _massive_ ,” Pidge argued, untangling herself from her chair to close the short distance between them, “and you know I have allergies!”

He caught it then, the way her gaze skirted around the bed before settling back on his face. The same way Hunk’s had. Pidge hid it better, but she didn’t know where to look either. It stung. Not as bad as it had when it was Hunk, because it didn’t blindside him this time, and he’d already kind of dealt with the way that being blindsided felt like a sucker punch… but it still hurt.

Still, it meant a lot to him that she was here and Shiro’s reassurances echoed in his head, restoring his faith that the awkwardness was temporary. He wrapped his arms around Pidge and hugged her close, soaking up her presence. That little empty spot in his mind,the hollow left behind when the Lions left, felt a bit smaller. It would never feel _completely_ whole again- not without Allura and not without Voltron- but Pidge’s arrival meant that all four of the other remaining Paladins were in the same place and it was already doing wonders for his stress levels.

The hug went on just long enough to make it is clear that this wasn’t a ‘glad you are okay’ hug. No, it was a ‘I would strangle you for being an idiotic hero-type but you almost died so I need to cling instead’ hug. He’d gotten pretty familiar with those lately. He’d even gotten one from _Keith_ and Ezor, bless her soul, had cemented her position of ‘good friend’ by getting video evidence of it!

He even caught a couple of soft sniffles and some hitches in Pidge’s breathing. He gave a little extra oomph to his half of the hug, rocking with her a bit. Time felt like it glitched and for an instant he felt like he was flashing through every one of the hugs _just like this_ that he and Pidge had shared over the years- each of them acting as a placeholder for missing siblings to each other in the early days, right up to that time a couple of years earlier when Pidge had shown up on his door rain-soaked and pale. Something… bad… had happened during a test of some project she’d been working on had left her shaken. She’d arrived at three am, spent two days and nights at his place eating take-out and playing video games and talking about nothing, and then left for home with a note saying goodbye and some money ‘for the food’ on his fridge while he was out picking up beer.

Pidge was like an extra sister to him… and he hated making his family cry.

“M’sorry,” he mumbled into her hair, “didn’t mean to break that promise.”

She laughed as she sat up, wiping tears away with her sleeve as she snorted and rolled her eyes. “S’not a complicated deal, McClain. You come home in one piece, and I don’t blow my fingers off at work.”

“Or start a war,” he pointed out. “You’re not allowed to blow your fingers off at work _or start a war_. Remember?”

“That was _one time_ , asshole! And… _annnnd_... that was a direct result of the other part of _your_ promise, that I was nice enough not to mention… for the record.”

“Listen- how was I supposed to know that sitting down to learn a new card game would mean I _won a bride!?!?!_ ”

“Backwards, misogynistic, greedy freaki-” She fumed, hopping off the bed to pace before pulling up short and turning to point at him in outrage. “That is _slavery_ you know!”

“I know,” he agreed readily. “It’s awful.”

“That was a species that was advanced enough to create an AI that passed the-”

“The Turing Test! I know! I was there, remember? I was just as outraged as you were… are?... Are. As you still are.”

“Can you play a card game to win a _groom_?? Oh noooo… Brides only. Sexist-”

He let out a short whistle, “hey! Yosemite Sam? I know. I didn’t break my promise not to accidentally participate in slavery, and I never will… so… maybe walk it off?” He flashed an encouraging smile at her, “after all… it took starting a war, like, a legit _war_ , but you put an end to it. So… breathe out… whoooo…”

The glare she levelled at him made him worry that she’d found some way to implant lasers in her eyes, so he just let the subject drop. “You never told me why you were on the Atlas…” he said instead.

She blinked at him, going all ‘confused owl’ as she cocked her head to and fro a couple of times. “You don’t know?”

“Not a clue. I’m not exactly tapped into the mainline for gossip at the moment, Holt.” He gestured to the med ward room they were in.

“For you. Lance, I’m here because of you. Shiro didn’t tell you?”

“Obviously not!” He was starting to panic a little… did the attempts to make sure he wasn’t going to get transferred back to Earth fall through? Was there some kind of looming bad news that Shiro and Veronica had pressured the staff to keep from him- something _so bad_ that it warranted calling in one of the smartest people in the universe to brainstorm for solutions?

“Woah,” Pidge snapped her fingers, “Lance! To help! I’m here to help you… Hey, calm down. It’s okay. Umm… so… you know how when I’m busy… I cope better? When you… got hurt… I just… left work. I had a go bag in the car and I just… headed to Coran’s place.”

“You went to New Altea??? _Why_?!?!” Heading home would have made sense to him. Crashing at Matt’s he could see. Even going to Cuba to be with his family would have been… a little weird… but kind of understandable. But… _Altea?!?!_

“Coran and I were the only ones… alone, kinda. Everyone else is already on ships and mobile. You’ve always been Coran’s favorite human… and he was alone. So, I went to hang with him until we got… news. Then, you had that last surgery and I got to thinking...Allura used Altean tech for Shiro’s floaty arm,” she said quietly, “well, Earth tech that was built on old Altean tech that she then did more Altean stuff to- it’s all very snake-eating-its-own-tail for which idea came from where… but… Yeah. New Altea has the most advanced Altean tech… and Coran.”

He went quiet, letting that sink in.

“And then… your sister started sending me information about your leg and how you were doing and stuff.” Pidge shrugged, “and I ended up with a project. I was almost done when Shiro called… so I stalled a bit.”

“My sister sent you my confidential medical information?” That was illegal, right? He was pretty positive that every aspect of that was suuuuper illegal.

“It was easier than trying to hack into the Atlas from the other side of the universe, Lance. Faster, too.”

Lance groaned, dragging his hand down over his face. _Of course_ that would be Pidge’s answer to that question. He didn’t know why he expected any different. Change of approach then, “you stalled _what_ , Pidge?”

“Oh- the whole ‘support network thing’.” She grabbed his hand, “I was totally going to be here either way. I just wanted to try to get finished before we left. No need to be so dramatic, by the way. Shiro yelling at me to, and I quote, ‘drag that skinny little ass of yours to the Atlas right the fuck now’ was bad enough. Seriously! The f-bomb from Shiro was… _weird_... but, dude, having Keith threaten to _send Kosmo_ to get us was really over the top. I was thiiiiiis close to being done and I’d already promised to drop everything and book it here to keep what’s her name happy…”

“I… have… _no idea_ what you are talking about….”

“The whole ‘Voltron Phone Tree’ thing,” she prompted.

Puzzled, he shook his head at her, “that means nothing to me… what’s a phone tree?”

“It’s like a parent teacher thing… there’s like, a class parent and when there’s something going on at the school that person calls two people, who call two people and so on until all the parents hear about it.” She waved that explanation off like it made a lick of sense to include it in _this_ conversation. He leaned forward expectantly, his expression making it clear that he was completely lost. “Shiro was acting like the clas- never mind, you are clueless. Okay… So. You don’t want to go back to Earth until you are independant again, right? But your doctor is some kind of superhuman who can face off against Veronica _and_ Shiro and not crumble… and she insisted that you needed a support network of at least a dozen people _here on the ship_ during your recovery before she’d sign off on the ‘no Earth’ plan.”

“Right, so we’ve been buying time by dragging our feet on getting a replacement for my job and making sure Keith isn’t onboard for more than a day or so before he ‘gets called away’ again…”

“Buying time until when, Lance?” she asked, smirking at him.

“Until… I dunno… until she sees that I’m doing fine on the Atlas, I guess? Or until we make it back home with me still on board… whichever comes first.”

“No, Lance,” she laughed, “support network of at least twelve, right? Your sister and Acxa, Keith and James, Ezor and Zethrid, Hunk and Shay, Romelle, me, Coran, and Shiro. Twelve. Stalling until you have one dozen loved ones onboard the Atlas, providing a solid and balanced emotional safety net, making sure that none of us burnout and you get the support you deserve. And… just in case… We’re recruiting some of your new friends, and the other MFEs, _and_ Krolia and Kolivan. No way she can claim that the bare minimum number she gave isn’t enough in this specific case.”

“This is… amazing,” he felt tears well in his eyes, but they were happy ones, so he didn’t fight them. “You guys didn’t have to do-”

“Yes.” She interrupted, “we did. For you? C’mon… you are always ready to drop everything to be there for the people you love when they need you. Lance? Did you _really_ think we wouldn’t do the same for you?”

“You still didn’t _have_ to,” he insisted. “I’m okay…”

“You aren’t okay. But! I’d be worried, really, really worried if you were.” Pidge caught his hand in her own and gave it a squeeze, “and you need to know that we are here because we _want_ to be, doofus. None of us think this is something you are demanding. We _have_ to be here, because if being here _helps_ even a little tiny bit, there is nowhere else we _could be_. Now- if that is settled… kindly fuck off with making me be all quiznaking emotional and sappy and shit!”

Some things never changed.

His visit with Pidge was cut short by the nurse arriving to help him get ready for his PT appointment. After that, his day was so busy that he barely had a chance to think. It was good to see Coran, and he loved the Altean dearly, but their time together wasn’t a social visit, it was work. Even with the high level of communication between them after his accident, there was still a _lot_ to go over with him and Ensign Kym struggled slightly with the chaotic energy that Coran always brought to a room, so it was slower going than he would have liked.

Giles and Ina arrived with some home cooked dinner for him, but he looked so exhausted that they decided not to stick around. It had just been a _gruelling_ day. All he wanted to do was return to his actual quarters, take a real bath, and sleep in his own bed. For all his experience with homesickness over the years, he couldn’t remember a single other instance where he was homesick for a living space that was so very close and still out of his reach.

He found himself checking the clock as the evening stretched on. It wasn’t like him and he was getting irritated with himself. Evenings were usually the best part of his day. They were the time when he kind of recharged after pushing himself in his recovery and his reduced work responsibilities. He’d had a difficult and tiring day, so he’d fully expected to soak up the quiet of the evening, maybe distract himself with some music or video games on his phone. But he couldn’t focus and he couldn’t relax… everything just felt… off.

It was almost ten when Shiro arrived, already changed out of his uniform into more comfortable, casual clothes. Lance was so glad for the familiar company that he felt himself light up when his friend arrived. Even the distracted scowl that Shiro wore didn’t cancel out the relief.

“Sorry… I got held up in meetings. I didn’t realize how late it was getting.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Shiro. As much as I appreciate everything, I _do_ know that you’ve been pushing yourself way too hard… as usual.”

“That’s actually not true,” he argued, “between you and Veronica, I’ve actually been managing to break some of my workaholic tendencies. Today was just a mess.”

“Did you want to sleep in your own place tonight then? That cot can’t be comfortable. You deserve to sleep in your own bed sometimes. I’ll be okay.”

“I’m not having this argument with you again, Lance. I’m here. I’m not leaving you alone overnight. Besides… just the thought of going back to my empty quarters tonight is…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

Worry bubbled up through him. It had been a while since he’d seen that worried crease in Shiro’s forehead in a situation that wasn’t directly related to Lance’s medical care. “Hey… what’s going on? I’ve got great security clearance, you can probably tell me, right?”

“It’s just…” He sighed, settling onto the bed beside Lance and turning so they faced each other. “We’ve gotten new intel on the Zarkon loyalists… good stuff. Solid. It might lead us to their nest… and we might have a lead on why they were so gung ho to take over that settlement.”

“That’s amazing! It’s been ages, it must feel great to finally have some real information to work with!” He didn’t push for more details, if Shiro was confident in them, he’d share what he could. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t want to get Lance’s hopes up about getting answers to the many lingering questions from the incident that cost him his leg.

“Yeah, but it also means trying to coordinate efforts with the higher ups in the coalition, and looping the Blade of Marmora into the discussion. Lots of big personalities to work around.” He groaned, dropping his head back for a second before pulling himself together again. “It’s nice to be able to complain to you and then just… put it out of my mind for the rest of the night.”

“Happy to help,” he replied, smiling in encouragement. “Whatever you need- I can listen, I can distract… I give good hugs. I’m like a one-stop-friendship-shop, open twenty-four-seven…”

Shiro snorted, rolling his eyes, but Lance could already see the stress draining out of his features. “I know I can count on you, Lance. Always.”

“Damn right you can! So, vent orrrr… maybe a video game?”

“How about- we watch a movie, instead? Some stupid comedy thing we don’t need to think about?”

“Sold! Put on whatever you like.” How could he say no to that? Especially with Shiro giving him puppy dog eyes. Not that he had any issue with watching a dumb movie and laughing their asses off. It was just that Lance had watched pretty much every available option several times over.

“You’re in for a treat,” Shiro said, his mood improving by the minute, “Pidge brought me a data crystal full of new movies and shows. I can finally get caught up on all the series I’ve been missing!”

“That’s awesome! Man, I love Pidge! But, that means a clarification is needed- put on anything you want _except_ that boring ass British show about the old lady that owns a flower shop and solves… I don’t know what to even call it. They aren’t mysteries, and most of them aren't even crimes… she’s just, like, solving _gossip_. Snooooooozeville!”

“I am aware of your opinion on Heresford Square, Lance,” he answered, voice dry, “you’ve been very vocal about it. I was thinking maybe that movie ‘McGuffin Inc.’? The one that’s about the secret organizations that do all the behind the scenes work for like, quests and stuff?”

“Oh yeah… I love that tag-line: ‘Behind every good prophecy you’ll find a McGuffin Man’!” He couldn’t help but laugh, “damn, you are such a Monsters and Mana nerd now!”

“It’s not a Monsters and Mana movie, Lance.” Shiro was already on the move, getting the movie set up, “and McGuffins show up in almost all stories. Should I grab snacks from your secret stash?”

“You just keep telling yourself that, bud. It’s not officially Monsters and Mana, but it is very Monsters and Mana-esque… and you know it. I moved the snacks after Ezor’s last raid.”

It only took a few minutes to direct Shiro to the newest junk food hiding spot, start the movie, and get settled. They shared a self-popping bag of Twiquin- a grain similar to rice, but larger. Shiro actually preferred it to popcorn (because apparently, Shiro was completely bonkers). The movie was light and fun and smarter than either of them had expected.

The medward had to be able to accommodate a wide range of alien physiologies, so the hospital bed in Lance’s room was wider than the ones on Earth, but it was still a tight squeeze for both of them. A tight enough squeeze that some cuddling was pretty much unavoidable without a truly ridiculous effort. So, he was sharing the last of the bag of Twinquin, while curled into Shiro’s side with his head cushioned against Shiro’s pec.

They followed up the first movie with ‘Surf and Protect 6: Boardwalk Bombshells’, a buddy cop series set in a resort town that reminded Lance a little of Varadero. Ten minutes into it Lance remembered the conversation with Pidge.

“Pidge was here this morning,” he made a point to keep his voice nonchalant, his eyes glued to the movie. Onscreen, he watched a bikini-clad cat burglar break into a luxury suite. “What even is this movie? Whatever she’s stealing, it better be _tiny_ \- that seems like a very impractical burgling outfit.”

Shiro snorted and Lance didn’t even have to look up to know he’d rolled his eyes. “Man, how times have changed! Loverboy Lance being critical of the movie because the scantily-clad beautiful woman is not properly dressed for a heist? Who would ever have predicted that?”

“Slav, Shiro. Slav would have predicted that. Oh good! She’s just stealing a key chip. That’s easy to hide, even in a bikini.” He crunched on his Twinquin.

“Can we not talk about Slav? I’m trying to _relax_ , remember?” Shiro sighed, starting to play with Lance’s hair distractedly. It had become something of a habit, and Lance loved how almost every time they were cuddled together (which was a lot since the accident), Shiro’s fingers seemed to find their way into his hair. “How was the visit with Pidge? As rough as the first time Hunk visited?”

“Good,” he answered through a yawn, “mostly good, anyway. She told me what you did...the whole Voltron Phone Tree thing-”

“-the Voltron what?”Shiro twisted away from the screen and toward Lance to meet his eyes.

Shiro’s eyes really were such a pretty grey… and so expressive. Almost mesmerizing. “I dunno, man… something to do with classrooms. Whatever. She told me you rallied the troops, so to speak.”

“Oh,” he smiled, cheeks coloring with a blush.

Lance wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Shiro blush before- which was a shame, because it suited him somehow. The light was odd and unsteady from the movie playing just at the edge of his vision, but Lance could still see the pink bloom in his cheeks. It was just so sweet and adorable. “Yeah, ‘oh’. That was… a really amazing thing to do for me, Shiro.” He could feel himself getting choked up again, but it was worth it. “Thank-you.”

“All I did was update everyone, Lance,” he demurred.

“You did a lot more than that, Shiro. You’ve done… just so much for me. Honestly, I have no idea how I would have…” He trailed off, the weight of trying to imagine how differently his recovery would have played out without Shiro there every step of the way slowly crushing him. He’d never taken Shiro’s presence for granted, but he’d also never really thought about what the last few months would have been like if he’d been sent to a different ship, or if the Atlas had a different captain. Dealing with the loss of his leg… without Shiro… it would have been impossible. Unfathomable. Shaking his head, he cleared his throat. “Thank-you. I want you to know… your help means so much to me. Really.”

“I know that,” he replied, “you don’t have to say it. I already know.”

“You still deserve to hear it, though,” Lance insisted. “Actually, you know what? I’m gonna shake things up a little.” Scooting back a little he twisted so he was facing Shiro more fully and pulled him into a tight hug. Shiro faltered for a moment and then returned the hug. “Check it out- an actual hug where neither of us are freaked the fuck out, or drunk, or in tears. I think this might be a first.”

“Oh my God, Lance,” he laughed, letting his head fall to Lance’s shoulder. “Only you.”

“Meh, you love me, though,” he quipped, squeezing a little tighter and rubbing his hand up and down Shiro’s back. He could feel the little bumps of his spine, the soft shake of his laughter, the strong muscles and the dips and ridges of scarring from a life that had seen far too much violence. “You,” he whispered, “are the _best_ person I have ever known. You’ve seen so much shit, and you are still so… God, Shiro, you are so _kind_. That deserves way more attention than the shit they keep pinning medals on you for. Seriously.”

“I think ‘best’ is a bit of an overstatement, Lance,” Shiro muttered, pulling back. That was weird. Shiro never ended a hug before Lance pulled away. Granted, most of their hugs were of a comforting nature and this one wasn’t… but Lance couldn’t remember a single time that Shiro had been the one to pull away from a hug. “We’ve both known some incredible people over the years.”

“True,” brows furrowing, he watched Shiro. The blush had intensified a little- Shiro was used to praise, but mostly for professional stuff (and probably his appearance, come to think of it). Lance had specifically focused on stuff that had nothing to do with fighting or flying, so maybe Shiro was just bashful about his more tender side? “We’ve both known, and still know, the cream of the crop, the best and the brightest… Annnnd... You’re still the best of the best.”

“Let’s just watch the movie.” Attention focused on the screen, Shiro settled back against the raised mattress. “It was really nice of you to say that stuff… so thank-you for the flattery and you’re welcome for the thanks.”

“Did… did I upset you somehow? I didn’t screw with some kind of superstition, did I? Like… oh shit- did I jinx you or something?”

That made him turn toward Lance again. “No… no, nothing like that. I’m not upset, and I don’t think I’m jinxed, or anything. I just wanna get back to the movie.” His expression bordered on pleading, and unlike the blush, the slightly desperate edge Lance saw in Shiro’s face was anything but cute.

It was jarring…

… and it made Lance’s gut churn.

He hated seeing it and he had an almost irresistible impulse to make sure that Shiro never looked like that ever again. It didn’t make any sense, but it filled him with the urge to go out and slay whatever dragon caused it. Which was, of course, impossible… but also, despite the assurances, it looked like _Lance_ , himself, was the cause.

That hurt…

… like, a lot.

Man, he hadn’t reacted like this to someone else’s pain in a long time. Not since…

oh.

He knew exactly what that expression was now. He wanted to make sure Lance didn’t inadvertently say something he’d feel bad about later, or regret, because of one particular exceptional person they’d both known.

Allura.

He hadn’t forgotten about her, and he meant what he said. Shiro was the best person he’d ever known- and sure, on the surface, that might seem a little unfair to Allura, she’d sacrificed herself to save everything and restore all realities, after all… but… Allura didn’t have to be the best person in the universe for him to love her… it wasn’t a betrayal or a slight for him to feel that way… and… Shiro had proven himself over and over and over again. Lance was pretty sure that Allura would agree with him, actually.

None of that would make any difference to Shiro if he felt like Lance didn’t mean what he said, though. Or if he thought that it was disrespectful to his friend, who’d saved his life more than once, pulled him back out of the Black Lion’s essence, and gave him bac- Jesus, Lance hadn’t ever actually strung together all the things Allura had done for Shiro like that before.

It was a lot.

No wonder Shiro reacted that way.

“Top three, at least,” quipped Lance, smiling. The point of the comments was to make Shiro feel good and know he was appreciated. If Lance tried to press his opinion or argue with Shiro it would completely defeat the purpose of saying anything in the first place. So, he could drop the subject if _not_ dropping it would undermine the praise. Besides, first place was still one of the top three spots, so it wasn’t even a fib.

Shiro shook his head, making a little snort of aborted laughter that was somehow charming, and relaxed. “I don’t see it, but… sure… if you say so.”

“I do say so,” he grumbled, returning to his original spot- curled into Shiro’s side with his head on his chest.

“I know you do,” Shiro answered, his fingers already finding their way into Lance’s hair.

“Good… because I do.” He had no idea what was going on in the movie. Surely it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. Why were the main characters of a movie about beach cops ass deep in snow?

“I wasn’t arguing with you.” Lance could hear the humor in Shiro’s voice and it made him smile. “It’s not real snow,” Shiro explained, because they just knew each other so well, sometimes it was almost like they could read each other’s minds, “the burglary ring is being run out of a soundstage.”

“Ooooh! Okay… makes sense, no one would think twice about weird behavior on a soundstage- and there’s plenty of ways to hide stuff in plain sight there. I like it.”

Just like that, they were back to normal.

All was right with the world again.

They dozed off like that during the movie. When Lance woke next, it was to the sound of the head of the bed being lowered by Ezri. She was making her rounds through the few people on the med ward, and had already cleared the snack wreckage, and fixed the blanket.

“Sorry to wake you,” she said in the softest whisper Lance had ever heard in his life.

“S’okay,” he mumbled blearily, hiding his eyes from the small light she carried by planting his face in Shiro’s chest more fully. “Wuhwerr watchin’ movisshhhh.”

“Movie’s done,” Ezri soothed, “go back to sleep. You both look so comfy all wrapped up in each other. Cute sleepy couple.”

“Juss’frennnsss,” he pointed out. He wanted to explain but it was just too much work, so he just half-heartedly waved goodbye and made sounds he hoped was coherent enough for her to understand. He’d explain next time he saw her.

He and Shiro were not together. They weren’t a couple. Sure, they spent a lot of time together, and they were close. Cuddly-close, especially since Lance had ended up in the medward.

That didn’t change the fact that they were just friends. Had been friends for years.

They’d been through a lot together. Shiro understood him in ways no one else could. He did have to explain any of the conflicting emotions he felt, or even talk, really. Shiro could tell when he needed a hug, or distraction, or a good cry.

Shiro had lost his arm. The first amputee Lance had ever gotten to know more than casually. He knew just how dark, the darkest of the emotional fallout that Lance went through was, and Lance knew that it wouldn’t faze him or drive him away.

It only made sense that Lance would find his presence soothing. That when he was at work, the blanket that smelled like his quarters and Lance could so easily envision on Shiro’s couch would be something Lance kept close at hand. That he slept better when Shiro was there… even if he was sound asleep on the little cot.

Sure, Shiro was drop dead gorgeous and that was the least impressive thing about him, and whoever he ended up with was probably the luckiest sonofabitch in the whole reality. Lance knew first hand just how thoughtful Shiro could be. How compassionate. How encouraging. How funny and charming and selfless and hard-working he could be. He was so career-minded, so dedicated to his work on the Atlas, but when Lance had been in bad shape, he’d _been there_... and once he was out of the woods and it would have been completely reasonable to pop in once or twice a week, Shiro had been there _every_ day… no matter what.

Seriously, given allll of that, was it really any wonder that Lance had fa- _woah!!_

Oh.

Oh no…

_Ohh…_

His eyes flew open

Given all the great things about Shiro, and the way he’d done so much for Lance, was it really any wonder that Lance had _fallen in love with him?_


	5. Vyran’chi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Veronica disagree about an experimental surgery. Keith and Lance have a heart to heart in the middle of the night.

Lance watched as the iv line was placed and the little bags of medications were hooked up to the line fluids. Ezri finished it up and started punching codes into the machine that made sure everything was nice and coordinated, mixing all the happy little chemicals into the magical cocktail that would knock him the fuck out, keep the bad germies away, and all that other good stuff. “Always nice to see a big smile on the patient’s face before surgery,” she said fondly. “Rare treat.”

“Hey now- I thought that seeing my smile was always a treat,” he replied, winking at her. “You’re gonna wound my ego and then I’ll be too depressed to heal properly. You want that on your head, Ezri?”

“Your ego is nice and robust, McClain,” she countered, giving the machine one final glance and handing Shiro a blue shower cap thing to put on Lance’s head. “Any last questions before this stuff starts to take effect?”

“Nope!” He made a point of popping the p to really make it clear that he was good. Better than good.

“How long should the process take?” Shiro asked, metal fingers tightening around one of Lance’s hands while Veronica clung to the other. “If everything goes smoothly, I mean.”

“We’ve been over this, Shiro. C’mon…”

“No harm in a refresher. Right, Roni?”

Veronica lifted her head, lips still moving in near-silent prayers, whispers of Spanish catching on the air. “Dios te salve, María. Llena eres de gracia: El Señor es contigo. Bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres.” Without missing a beat, she nodded. It was eerie, having his sister say rosaries over him, the hand that wasn’t clutching his own thumbing over the familiar pattern of beads. She was about halfway through the mysteries by his (admittedly distracted) count, the repetition of ‘Hail Mary’s making him think of all the times growing up when his grandmother would pray over him whenever he missed school for illness. “Y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre: Jesús. Santa María, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros pecadores, ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte. Amen.”

Neither he nor Veronica were the most devout Catholics, but she was the only family who could do this for him and they’d both promised their mother and father that they would. He hoped it was helping to quell her worries. She’d hated this plan at first and had only nominally come around to it. They’d fought about it, more than once, but ultimately, it was his decision and once she saw she wasn’t going to change his mind, she stepped up to be supportive. It meant a lot to him that she had, and that she was keeping her promise to their family, so he rubbed his thumb against her hand, letting her know he was glad she was there.

Ezri ran through the surgical plan again, step by step. Shiro nodded along, laser focused on what she was saying. Lance felt like he could recite the plan from memory, but if it helped keep things calm, if it helped _Shiro_ he could hear it again. He could hear it a million times if that’s what Shiro needed.

Unlike Veronica, Shiro had been on board with this decision right from the start, he just had… his own reasons for wanting to make sure everything went smoothly. Sure enough, Lance caught the little twitch of his eyelid when Ezri mentioned ‘activation’. That was where things got dicey for Shiro. The initial activation of his galra arm had been excruciating, activation of latent programming in it had almost cost… and even with the arm he had now… things had gone pretty wrong at the ‘activation’ point.

“Don’t worry, Captain,” Ezri said, “best minds in the coalition, remember? He’s in good hands.”

“Dr. Bashir is a badass bomb bish,” Lance reminded him. “She held her ground against Veronica here when she broke out her very best ‘Karen wants to speak to the manager’ act. She’s the one that did the amputation in the first place.”

“I know,” he sighed, “I do. It’s just that surgery…”

“... is something that neither of you control freaks have any say over. I know. Buuuut… I’m excited. This is a _good_ day. Try to muster up a little enthusiasm, would’ya?”

“Yay.”

“Very funny jackass. I’m not fucking around. Enthusiasm. Now.”

“Woohoo?”

“One last try… gimme like, kicking Keith’s ass at poker energy.”

Shiro rolled his eyes, but he did it. “Woohoo!”

“That’s sad, Shirogane. Sad… but, I’ll take it.” He scrunched up his face, feeling weird little crackly tingles in the muscles. “Feel weird…”

“That’s the sedation,” Ezri explained, “you should start feeling really warm, and maybe a little like you are sinking. Totally normal.”

“Let’s lie you down, hmmm?” Shiro let go of his hand and Lance immediately felt about half as confident in this decision without the grounding touch. “You got this, Sharpshooter,” Shiro said softly, giving him an encouraging smile as he slipped the puffy cap over Lance’s head, making sure to tuck up all his hair.

God, he was so sweet. So thoughtful and kind. Lance felt himself go all gooey inside.

That _might_ have been the meds… but he doubted it.

“How do I look?” he asked with a wink as Shiro hit the button to lower the head of the bed, “is Loverboy Lance rocking this outfit, or what?”

Behind Shiro, he could see Ezri shake her head a little and her smile was… a little too _smug_ thankyouverymuch. Regardless of Lance’s feelings, he and Shiro were just friends. He’d told her that. She just thought she knew better.

She was wrong.

This was just what Shiro’s friendship looked like.

“Definitely bringing that signature Razzle Dazzle, Lance,” Shiro answered with a fond eyeroll.

“Perfect. That settles the debate on what I’m wearing to the next big formal gala. I’ll be a trendsetter! A med’ya inflinzuh… woah…” He blinked at his free hand, still lying on the mattress of the transport gurney, despite his brain telling it to make a finger gun. “Hebbee…”

“Alright, that’s our cue to leave. Say your ‘see you later’s you two, they are waiting for Ambassador McClain in the surgical suite and it’s time for us to go.”

Shiro leaned over into his line of sight and Lance couldn’t help but smile at that handsome face. “You got this. See you when you wake up, okay?” His metal hand rested against Lance’s cheek, the thumb brushing over the mark from Allura and his face closing off somehow as he cleared his throat. It was like the _warmth_ faded out of Shiro’s eyes… Which didn’t make any sense… His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool and it was hard to understand why Shiro would have gone all distant… or maybe Lance was just… seeing things. Either way- whether it was his fuzzy head, or drug-induced vision screw-ups, it had to be the meds, right?

“Seeee’ya,” he confirmed. It came out a little muffled, because by the time the words made their way from his brain to his mouth, Veronica was hugging him.

“Don’t you dare die on me,” Veronica hissed into his ear. “I love you, nene.”

“Luffoo,” he mumbled, blinking hard as the gurney started moving. She knew that. Roni knew he loved her.

“Luff oooh…” He tried again. Just in case.

No, that wasn’t right. But she knew… If something went wrong, they knew…

No!

Shiro!

Shiro didn’t know!

He lurched slightly, determined to make his mouth do what it was supposed to do. “Luh… Luvvvvvv…” he managed before everything went black.

* * *

His arm felt weird. Like it was being squeezed.

Okay, maybe not.

Nope. weird again.

_Annnnnnoying!_

“Leave it alone, or I’m tying your hand to the railing.”

Well, that was mean.

“It’s not mean, they need to monitor your blood pressure and you keep messing with the cuff.”

No he didn’t! He was just trying to get his arm back from whatever was squeezing it!

“That’s the blood pressure cuff, genius. Fuck, you are high as balls!”

High as balls? Weird. Were balls high? Who had high balls? His balls weren’t high- were they? He was pretty sure they were… kind of in the middle.

Oh no!

Did someone _move his balls_?!?!

“Oh my fucking God, I’m recording this. Pidge will pay me a _mint_ to see this shit. No, Lance. No one moved your balls. Why the hell would anyone move your balls?? You had surgery. On your leg. Remember?”

Surgery.

On his leg.

His leg.

_They took his leg!_

“Woah! Lance! Calm down!” Strong hands pressed at his shoulders, “no one took your leg!”

“My leg!” he sobbed. Weird, disjointed and fractured memories tried to cut through the strange haze that clung to his thoughts.

“Hey… hey…” A soft hand settled against his cheek, brushing away a tear, but it felt all wrong.

Wrong pressure.

Wrong placement.

Wrong size, and texture, and, and, and… everything about it felt wrong.

Making a strangled noise he jerked away from the touch, eyes flying open. He struggled to piece together what was happening and why. He couldn’t quite puzzle out who he was comparing him against, but even without that clarity, even without being fully aware of _who_ was touching him, the instant that he connected the voice to the person speaking, he could still tell that Keith was he _wrong person_.

“Keith?? Why…” He didn’t like this. Not at all. He felt like he was flickering in and out of reality and he didn’t like it one bit.

“Yeah, Lance… it’s me… Keith,” he smiled, nodding at Lance slowly. “You just had surgery. They didn’t take your leg. Not this time. You’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” he repeated, like he could taste the words.

“You’re okay. Do you remember what’s going on?”

“Umm… I was...hurt, but like… long ago?” He’d said it like a question, but that felt more right by the second. “My leg… it’s been gone… for a while,” sadness settled over him. Older, weathered by work and time, sadness that felt heavy despite losing the sharp, jagged edges.

Keith was nodding, but his expression was sad, ”a few months, yeah. You got hurt… protecting me.”

“Mmm…” Eyes drifting closed on a swell of nausea, he took a slow breath. . “Squished…”

“Something like that, yeah. You want some water? You look a little green around the gills.”

“I have gills, now?!?! They gave me _gills_?!?!”

“Whuh?”

He sounded so confused it was adorable. Unable to resist the urge to smirk he cracked open one eye. “Relax, jackass… I’m just fucking with you.”

“Asshole! For a second I was actually scared they’d fucked up your brain somehow.”

“Awww, you care,” he cooed, letting his eye drift closed again. It was easier to keep track of things with his eyes shut. He could hear the soft beep that he recognized as the administration of pain medication. Sure enough, a few seconds later he felt that cold burn spread up his arm and through his chest before it hit his heart and sort of bloomed into his whole body at once.

Whew, that stuff packed a punch! His head swam and he could feel himself sinking back into sleep.

Beside him, Keith huffed, “course I do.”

“Voltron’s fimlee,” he mumbled. His lips felt weird- numb and tingly. He felt almost like he did before he was wheeled into surgery. Wait… “Keef? Sur’jree?”

“I didn’t have surgery Lance, you did.”

“Pffft.. I know… did… um… um… did d’werk?”

He almost missed the little laugh from Keith. Almost, but not quite. “Yeah, Lance. It worked.”

“Woohoo…” It was a weak cheer, but a cheer all the same. His attempt at a fistbump failed horribly though. “M’sleepy…”

“Go ahead and sleep. You need to rest. Shiro and Veronica will kill me if I keep you from getting the rest you need.”

“Roni’s worried,” he managed through a yawn. Nodding against his pillow he cuddled down into the familiar fuzzy blanket. “Mmhmmm… an’Shiro… 's'cuz m'hizz bessfren..."

Keith patted his shoulder, “no bud, _I’m_ his best friend… you are just… you’re _you_.”

Leave to Keith to be possessive over the whole ‘best friend’ title. Geez! “Ruuuuude,” he slurred, not even sure he managed to finish the word before he conked out again.

* * *

He woke gently, to a dim room and the familiar sensation of someone playing with his hair. Shiro.

“Right here, Lance.” A thumb stroked over his temple, “Roni’s here, too.”

“Kay… good… don’go…”

“Not going anywhere, I promise. Here,” a straw brushed his lip and he accepted it gratefully, taking small, frantic, sips of the water. So thirsty. “Slow down or you’ll get sick.”

“Took longer than they expected, but everything went really well, nene.” Veronica squeezed his hand.

“Kay… good…”

“Still a bit loopy, huh?” Shiro laughed, the sound soft and fond. It made him smile, because Shiro had a good laugh. It made him feel warm inside when Shiro laughed.

“Definitely still loopy,” Veronica chuckled, “messing up his English.” She patted his hand, and the bed rose slowly until he was reclining, but _almost_ upright. “I think you meant heartwarming, nene.”

“Mmmm… maybe?” He blinked, even the low light felt too bright and jarring. “I… um… I had surgery… right?”

“You sure did,” Shiro answered, “all the leads and sensors and cybernetic implants are in place. The new leg is all connected.”

“I have two legs again?” Hope washed over him, relief following in its wake. His eyes welled up and spilling over, tears streaking down his cheeks. Clumsily, he pulled his hand out of his sister’s grasp to scrub the wetness away. “Really?”

“Courtesy of Pidge and Coran and your stellar surgical team. Yeah, Lance… you have two legs again.” Shiro’s smile was huge. Practically beaming. He squeezed Lance’s hand and leaned closer.

“Yup,” Veronica wiped at his face with the scratchy cheap tissues that the medward was cursed with. “That _completely elective_ , highly experimental surgery is over… and you are _not_ going to sign up for any more operations until we are back on Earth. Understood?”

“She was worried when it took longer than expected.”

“Shut-up, Shiro! I was never a fan of this plan, but you were so insistent… just… don’t make me think I’m going to have to tell our parents that something awful happened during a surgery that you didn’t actually _need_ ever again!”

“Roni… breathe. He just woke up.”

“You’re right. You’re right. This isn’t the time.”

“I needed it,” Lance whispered, his voice small. He had tried to explain that to her so often, but she just couldn’t seem to wrap her head around it. “This is… it’s special… you don’t understand.”

“Hey,” cooed Shiro, “you had the surgery. It’s done. You’ve got the cyber-leg. You don’t need to defend it anymore. Let her fuss, she was scared.”

“Scared?” He glanced over at his sister, who had crossed her arm over her chest and started glaring at Shiro. “Hey… c’mere… hugs. So you know I’m okay.” Lifting his hands was more effort than he expected, but he managed to and he even pulled off a passable grabby-hand like a little kid. “Huuuuuuuugs…”

“I know you’re okay,” she grumbled, but she moved. Carefully, (too carefully, in his opinion) she climbed up onto the bed and unfolded herself as she cuddled into him.

“Sorry I scared you,” he whispered into her shoulder.

“Wasn’t scared,” she insisted, even though he feel her shaking against him. “Stop doing shit that makes me call home…”

“That was the last one,” he assured her.

“Good.”

“I love you, Roni…”

“I love you, too, Fergie.”

He went still, the last of the pleasant haziness evaporating in an instant. He _couldn’t_ have heard that right. “What?”

“I love you, too?” He was so desperate to have imagined it that he _almost_ fell for Veronica’s stunt. Except…

They weren’t alone in the room.

Shiro snickered, squeezing the hand he was still holding.

“Hey! He’s already heard the name…”

“Veronica Beatriz Pilar Carmen Sorcha McClain! You _swore_!!”

“Sasha?? Okay- before this turns into one of your arguments, I’m going to step in,” Shiro waved his floating hand between them, “since Lance _literally_ just had surgery and should really be staying calm.”

“It just slipped out!” Veronica insisted, just as he was trying to explain.

“She swore she’d _never_ call me by that nick- don’t give me that accidental bs! You thought I wouldn’t notice!”

“You expect me to play referee with this shit?” Shiro was incredulous. “No way- Space Dad?- and yes, I _was_ aware of that _lovely_ little nickname- He’s retired… and _Lance just had surgery!_ ”

The room went completely silent after his outburst. Stunned, they both turned in unison to stare at Shiro.

“That,” Lance breathed, blinking slowly, “was the most ‘Space Dad’ thing I have ever heard!”

“Jeeeez,” replied Veronica, “we better play nice or he’s gonna pull this thing over. Right. Now. Isweartogod!”

Shiro might have been able to withstand _one_ smartass McClain, but he crumbled when faced with two of them. His glower was impressive, but after Veronica’s first snort of laughter, it cracked. Lance got to see confusion, surprise, relief, and humor wash over Shiro’s face in waves, his grey eyes going from steely and dark to warm and cotton ball soft with the mood shift. Finally, he rolled his eyes and shook his head on a ghost of a chuckle, “looks like you aren’t quite so loopy anymore. Any pain?”

“Not really,” Lance settled back against the bed, “don’t feel much of anything… spinal?”

“Not like last time,” Veronica slid back into her seat beside the bed. “It’s not like an iv drip, it was… kind of like they novocained your spine.”

“Helps keep the muscles around the anchor sites and leads and stuff from pulling away as much.”

He nodded. Now that they’d said that, he remembered discussing it with Dr. Bashir. “Right… and minimal post-op pain medication. I remember. We made a plan. I’m _walking home_ as soon as… uh… augmented-humanly possible.”

“For the record- I still don’t like that plan. Pain medication isn’t a bad thing.”

“Which is why I’m going to use it when I need it. Come on… I’m not a dumbass kid, or a masochist. I just want to get back to my real life.”

“So!” Shiro cut in, then faltered slightly, because it was obvious that it had worked better than he’d expected it to. “Ummm… Fergus and Sasha?”

“Sorcha,” corrected Veronica.

“Sasha.”

“Sauce-sha.”

“Saw-shuh.”

“Sauce-sha. Sauce? Sha. Sauce-sha.”

“Saws-shuh?”

Oh, Lance could watch this hilarity all. Damn. day. Shiro’s earnest attempts to mimic Veronica’s increasingly impatient coaxing were adorable, and he hadn’t seen her scrunch her face up like that since they were kids!

She waved him off, “close enough.”

Awww… they’d stopped.

“Where did the names Fergus and Sorcha come from?” Shiro asked, and Lance nearly cracked up when he caught the way Veronica flinched at the way he’d pronounced her middle name.

“Same place as the McClain,” he quipped, grinning, “and the pretty blue peepers.”

“Grandda McClain,” Veronica added, “he picked out a name for each of us and our parents made them the last middle name.”

“Technically… yes… but she leaves out all the best parts of the story. Ask me sometime when I’m not coming off major surgery and I’ll tell it the _right_ way.”

“The other stuff isn’t relevant,” she grumbled, but Shiro just gave him a little nod. He knew how much Lance loved telling stories about his family. Way back when they first ended up on the Castle of Lions, Shiro would sometimes prod him into talking about his childhood, or his home, his loved ones. It never seemed to have any pattern to it at the time, but now Lance knew Shiro well enough to know that those conversations were as much about him needing a distraction as they were about Lance needing to alleviate homesickness.

Some night after a shitty day when they were hanging out in the medward, or hopefully literally _anywhere else_ Shiro would casually ask what Veronica had left out, and he’d get to do the story justice.

* * *

Veronica stubbed her toe as she was crossing the dim room without her glasses and let out a streak of cursing that would have made a sailor blush. For an instant, he felt like he was home in Cuba, playing video games with his siblings down in the basement on the old couch (Veronica got even more invested in video games than Pidge did. It was… downright frightening).

It made him chuckle, and earned him a smack to his shoulder when she reached the bed. “Anything you need before I get settled away for the night?”

“You are here to keep me company, not tend to me,” he pointed out. He tried not to sound like he was complaining, because what she was doing was sweet… it was just… he’d gotten used to talking with Shiro every night before he dozed off, and having her here was… a little disconcerting.

She tightened the two little french braids she was using to keep her hair out of her face while she slept. With the braids, the lack of glasses, and the pajamas she’d chosen to wear (shorts and a tank top printed with a repeating pattern of a cute little cartoon couple consisting of a mug of coffee and a cinnamon roll), she looked years younger… which honestly, wasn’t doing much to shake that weird time-glitch-feeling he was dealing with. “Is that your way of telling me you don’t ask Shiro to get you a glass of water or a snack before you conk out? Because I’d like to remind you that I am nosy as fuck and know exactly how to pester him until he talks to me… and I know full well that you say you’re fine and five minutes after he climbs into that cot you are all ‘ohhh actually….’ and he’s tracking down fucking fluuto beans or chocolate milk for you like you’re eight.”

Gasping, he flattened his hand against his chest, “lies! I do no such thing!”

“So… since I’m _not_ Shiro and once I am in bed and comfy I’m not getting up to get you fucking snacks, lemme ask you one more time: is there anything you need before I get settled in?”

“Well, there _wasn’t_... and then you mentioned chocolate milk…”

“Uh-huh… and where can I find chocolate milk?” Even in the low light he could see that eye roll as she shook her head and muttered about how grown men didn’t drink chocolate milk… which was patently untrue! Chocolate milk was an _excellent_ post-workout drink and she knew it!

“Ezri should have left some in the cooler at the nurse’s station for me.”

“Awww… your nurse has a crush on you!” she cooed playfully, poking him in the shoulder as she walked past him. “You should dial back the flirting a bit. She’s going to think you are serious.”

“Oh, she does not! Also, she will not!” Ezri?? Crushing on _Lance_?!?! Not likely!

“Isn’t she the one you keep calling scary?”

“Mmhmm… because she is!” It was getting seriously irritating that no one believed him about that. Ezri was sweet, and they’d developed a bit of a friendship in the months he’d been stuck in the medward, but Lance had seen her face off against doctors she disagreed with, and put a handsy patient in their place… and, listen, Lance knew a scary badass when he saw one. Crossing Ezri was a bad, dumb, terrible idea. People needed to give him more credit!

As glad as he was for the company, it still felt kind of _off_ to have his sister here after visiting hours ended. It had been so long since she and Shiro had taken turns with the sleepovers that it didn’t feel normal anymore. But, Shiro was stuck making a conference call with Olkarion, Arus, and three other planets Lance had never been to and because of time zones, it _started_ at two am for the Atlas.

He’d tried to say that he’d be fine on his own for the night, but Roni and Shiro had had one of their creepy silent conversations right in front of him and then his sister announced that she’d take the cot.

And that was the end of that discussion.

Well, to be fair… last night had been kind of a disaster. He’d still been on pretty high doses of medication and getting knocked out for the operation had messed with his head. So, for the first time in ages, he’d had nightmares and he’d struggled to fully come out of them when he woke. Vague, disturbing images flitted around the edges of his vision like ghosts. After what was probably the third or fourth one Shiro had tried to crawl into bed with him, but it was still too soon after the surgery and he was a snarl of tubes and wires and bandages and even a minor bump against his right leg was excruciating.

Instead, Shiro had bundled him up in the fuzzy blanket (which, frankly, was more Lance’s than Shiro’s at this point, for all that it somehow still smelled like Shiro), and let him curl around his floating arm like it was a teddy bear. Then he’d half-sprawled across the head of the bed while twisted into a pretzel in the chair he’d pushed up against the bed, and stayed awake all damn night, playing with Lance’s hair and talking him down every time he jolted out of strange, frightening dreams.

So… yeah… probably shouldn’t be too shocked that no one had believed that he’d be okay on his own tonight.

It was just that… Veronica… there was something about the worry that never really left her face that made him feel… like a patient.

Which was… true. He wasn’t under any illusions that he wasn’t a patient, that he wasn’t recovering and in need of medical care. He wasn’t delusional!

The thing was though… _feeling_ like a patient was different. It was draining and depressing and it made him feel bad for worrying everyone (especially his family) and turning everyone’s life upside down. So, the more time he spent alone with Veronica, the harder it was not to feel like… a burden.

Somehow, even when he was contorting painfully and staying awake for hours to help Lance rest just a little easier, Shiro managed to make him feel _not_ like a burden. As bizarre as it sounded, winding down at the end of every day with Shiro before bed felt like a slice of _normal_ in a weird, weird time. It shouldn’t- because nothing about that whole arrangement was ‘normal life’- but it did.

The best Lance could come up with to explain it was that it was a combination of the _routine_ they’d created and the way that Shiro could understand what he was dealing with in a way that most people couldn’t.

“Sooo- this chocolate milk has Ezri’s name on it… you sure it is for you?”

“One hundred percent positive,” he answered, grinning as he reached out for the milk.

“Uh-huh, and _why_ are you so sure of that?”

“Because I told Ezri where milk comes from and for some reason, that _really_ messes with Alteans.”

“Altean food is… uh… different.”

He laughed. He couldn’t help it, her face was priceless! “I learned pretty early on not to ask where the food came from… so, I kinda relate to the whole ‘omg I can’t believe they eat that’ thing that seems to turn them off milk. But… I dunno… I’m used to most Altean foods now… and relying almost entirely on green goo for nutrients for so long can cure you of a lot of squeamishness.”

“I’ve heard a lot about the goo,” she answered, mussing up his hair.

“It wasn’t _bad_... but thank God we had Hunk to feed us!”

“Drink your milk. It’s getting late.” While he drank, she set up the cot, then pushed it flush to the side of his bed and fiddled with the height until they were level with each other. “Shiro told me that last night was rough… if we keep the railing up I can’t bump your leg, but I can hold your hand or shake you awake or whatever.”

He stared at her, “you… that’s… how… Oh my God, I cannot believe it never occurred to us to _push the beds together_!”

“Mmhmm… yup. I’m a genius. For sure.” She kicked off her slippers and crawled into the cot.

“It’s so obvious!” He muttered, carefully shifting around in the bed until he was reasonably comfortable. Damn, he missed sleeping on his stomach… or his side. He was so sick of having to be careful of how he was resting. Just so sick of all of this medical shit. “Roni?”

“Mmm?” She was facing him, curled on her side with one arm folded under her pillow.

“Thank-you,” he whispered, “for… staying here. I know you don’t get to have your girlfriend staying with you very often and… just… I appreciate it.”

One of her eyes cracked open and she smiled, reaching out to touch the marks from Allura that were glowing softly. “You’re my brother. No way am I leaving you alone tonight.”

“You’re my favorite,” he made it sound like he was confessing some deep dark secret… but it really wasn’t. He loved all his siblings, and had a good relationship with each of them… but it was true. Veronica was his favorite. She always had been, but it had been elevated to a whole new level after he’d returned to Earth… and then their social circles had kind of merged together and that had only made them closer. “I don’t tell you that enough.”

“You don’t have to. You have no secrets from me. I know allllll!”

“Oh, you do not,” he snorted, “I just let you think that.”

“Or maybe I just let _you_ think _that_ ,” she countered, smirking.

“Whatever!”

Their laughter faded out and they settled into drowsy quiet. He was almost asleep when she spoke again, her voice so soft that he could barely hear her despite how close she was to him. “I know what you were trying to say before you went in for surgery… and I covered for you when you were waking up.”

His heart stopped in his chest.

He was actually kind of shocked that it hadn’t set off some kind of medical alarm. He was terrified to open his eyes and see her knowing, smug expression. She was bluffing. Had to be.

He wasn’t gonna fall for that.

“I dunno what you are talking about,” he mumbled, faking a yawn at the end.

“You don’t remember?”

“I was pretty high,” he pointed out, because it was true. “Medical grade drugs… the good ones.”

“Alright… fine… Just know I’m here when you need to talk.”

“I know that, Roni,” he answered.

“Good. Okay… night…”

“G’night.” He waited for her to say something else. To start the conversation up again- because she was almost as bad as he was for making random observations just as the other person in the room was about to drift off to sleep. He used all the sniper tricks he knew to force his breathing to stay slow and steady, his body loose and relaxed. Like he wasn’t busted. Like she didn’t know what she _absolutely_ knew.

It worked.

Surprisingly, she let the conversation drop.

Well, that was easier than he expected.

“If you weren’t lying about not remembering what I was talking about...” Of fucking _course_ she spoke up the second he thought he was in the clear! “If you realllllly couldn’t remember, you’d have had a million panicked questions about what I was talking about.”

Shit.

“Cuz you are just as nosy as me, and you’d be terrified you did something really embarrassing in front of Shiro.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“But you didn’t ask a single thing… and the only way that would happen is if you _do_ remember. So, I know you are lying. I always know when you lie. You know exactly what I was talking about… and now you know that I know what you were trying to say. So… I won’t push.”

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit…. He stared at her, looking for all the world like she was sound asleep except for the fact that she was speaking, low and soft, barely moving her lips.

“I’m here… when you need me.”

“You… uh… you covered for me?”

“Mhmm… you were totally out of it. Didn’t even know you were talking. You…” She took a breath. Let it out on a sigh. “When… _if_ you decide to tell him… you deserve to be aware that that’s what you are doing.”

“Oh… yeah… thanks.”

One of her eyes cracked open again, “I think that should be a when and not an if- for the record. When you’re ready.”

“Yeahhh,” he cringed just at the _thought_ of the minefield telling Shiro would create, “that’s not gonna happen. No way.”

“Kay… go to sleep, Lance.”

“I’ve been trying to, Roni,” he grumbled, “you’re the one who keeps talking!”

“Shhhh,” clumsily, she covered his mouth, nuzzling her face deeper into her pillow, “ess’sslleeeepytime…”

Within a couple of minutes, she was snoring softly, and he was left staring at the ceiling. He’d been doing so well with just ignoring his realization that he’d fallen in love with his friend. Honestly, the nature of his friendship with Shiro made that pretty easy to do. Shiro had seen him at his absolute worst moments and not once had he made Lance feel judged or screwed up or too much. He’d seen Shiro fall apart more than once- knew better than most that the ‘Garrison’s Golden Boy’ was… just a person. Far from the glossy, flawless ‘hero’ that most people saw.

He worked too hard, took on responsibility for things that were far beyond his control. He could be short-tempered and churlish. He struggled with insomnia, and still dealt with a lingering fear of his body failing him, so he was wayyyy too invested in staying in ‘top form’. He was self-conscious about his scars to the point that he wore a tank top when he went to a beach. His PTSD was pretty well controlled, but it wasn’t gone. He couldn’t cook. Even after years, he _still_ could. not. cope. with Slav.

But he was also so much _better_ than his public image. He was deeply kind, and incredibly loyal. He was determined to make the world a better place, and faced his worst fears head on. He knew what it was to fail, but he didn’t let it keep him down. He was smart and thoughtful and had a shockingly dark sense of humor. He was an incredible friend- as he’d proven _daily_ since Lance had gotten hurt. He had a playful streak that tempered his competitiveness and took him from a ‘good’ leader to a ‘great’ one. He had a knack for getting through to people who had their guards up ( _Keith_ ). He survived more than most people had any clue about- Lance had heard so many stories that he knew Shiro had never shared with anyone else.

They’d been so close for so long, closer than most people realised, it was just… so easy to love him. So… _natural_. Most of the time, it wasn’t even something that Lance consciously thought about. There wasn’t really any of the anxious, tongue tied, blushing _pining_ he’d initially worried he’d be dealing with when he realised just how deeply he’d fallen.

It wasn’t like a _crush_.

He hadn’t just suddenly realised that his friend was attractive. Shiro had always been stupidly hot. Lance had learned how to function around that years ago. It helped that Shiro was neither clueless nor obnoxiously vain about his appearance. Lance was well aware that Shiro was gorgeous- it was just that Shiro being gorgeous was literally the _most boring_ thing about him, so after a while the heart-throb good looks kind of faded into the background because there were so many better things to pay attention to.

So… yeah… being around Shiro was virtually effortless. He was more comfortable, more secure, and more content in his company than he was with anyone he’d ever known.

But his sister was completely out of her mind if she thought he was ever going to _tell_ Shiro how he felt!

* * *

So, ‘minimal post-op pain medication’ hadn’t translated quite the way Lance had expected it to.

Neither had the whole ‘home as soon as augmented-humanly possible’ thing.

He thought he’d been ambitious but reasonable with his plan to be back in his own quarters but still doing daily physical therapy in a week. He wasn’t trying to get out of doing the work- just the damn medward! But, it had been nearly a _month_... and okay, sure… Shiro would point out that _technically_ it was more like… twenty-two days, but that was more than three weeks. Ergo, almost a month.

Nearly a _month_ and it felt like he was even further from the independence he wanted so badly than he’d been _before_ that last surgery!

He was getting awful nerve pain that stole his breath and made him break out in a cold sweat whenever it hit. It seemed to be completely unpredictable, and no one could figure out any way to avoid triggering it, so Lance had to wait for it to hit and then wait to see if it would pass on its own, and then, finally, he would cave and accept medication. It didn’t even really get rid of the pain, just clawed it back from the mind-jolting edge of survivability to something he could almost function around.

He was so sick of this room!

He was sick of PT, too, but at least he knew there was a _purpose_ for the gruelling and frustrating therapy sessions. It was something he could _work harder_ on. He couldn’t put more effort into making the nerve pain stop. He couldn’t _try_ his way into making his gorgeous, brilliant, state-of-the-art, miraculous tech leg interact with his brain the way it was supposed to.

He just had to wait.

Wait until his cybernetics integrated into his thought patterns. Wait until his brain figured out how to communicate with the tech that controlled his new leg. Wait until his ‘blended quintessence’ accepted the metal and wiring and half-magical marvel that Pidge had built with all the alchemical help that Coran could muster.

Wait...

Wait...

Wait... Wait... Wait. Wait. Wait.WaitWaitwaitwaitwait-

“Augh!” He thunked his fist against the dull gleam of the metal casing in frustration, and then shook off the pain in his knuckles. (Because metal made a bad punching bag.)

“Did they put you in the pool?” Coran asked from the doorway. “I’ve been informed by Ezor that learning to maneuver an artificial leg in the water is quite the challenge. We did try to account for that in our design but…”

“Ezor and that damn pool,” he muttered, “she’s obsessed.” Turning, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and shifted so he was sitting at the foot of the bed. He refused to spend all the time that he was stuck in this room reclining in a hospital bed like he was on death’s door or something.

Coran’s eyes lingered on the dangling limb. “Can you feel that?”

“Hmmm… kinda? I can feel that it is, like, swaying, but not which direction, and I can’t feel the air moving, or the bedsheets. It’s all kind of vague and confused, too.”

“Righto! Good signs! Good signs, my boy, I promise.” Lance would never get used to the way Coran’s whole face just transformed when he shifted his point of view or focus. He’d gone from serious but encouraging to over-the-top boisterous in a blink. Holding a datapad up with one hand while the other patted a tool bag he barrelled on. “Some sensor readings and scans, and then we can buckle down and figure out the seating arrangement for the inaugural feast welcoming the Kipjumk to the Coalition. It’s always such a fun puzzle!”

“Yup… seating charts. Funtimes. Can’t wait.” He mustered up a smile for Coran… because he wasn’t the kind of jackass that took out his frustrations with his own recovery on a man who had dropped everything and travelled _galaxies_ to be there for him… let alone the man who’d helped him find a new career that he _loved_!

“I’m sure this must be very frustrating for you, but… this is temporary, Lance.”

“What if it isn’t though?” he asked, voice small, “what if it doesn’t get better than right now?”

“Lance, my boy, “ Coran cupped his gloved hands around Lance’s, “that will not happen. I am not sure if you have noticed this about me, but I do not make promises often… and I _promise_ you that, one way or another, we will make sure that you are not in pain, and that you are able to return to your own life.”

“Thank-you ,Coran.” It was touching how serious Coran was in his assurances… and, honestly, Lance knew he was lucky to know the people he did, to have the resources he had, the options available to him. He had a support network of (more than a dozen, per Dr. Bashir) amazing people backing him up. They’d accomplished so much, individually and together, that _should_ have been impossible. That looked completely unattainable on paper. To know that they’d approach the problems caused by his injury with the same tenacious ferocity as they had everything else the universe had thrown at them was a powerful thing.

One that was all too easy to lose sight of.

“You are most welcome, old friend. Now, let’s see what we can glean from this stubborn piece of tech, shall we?”

They’d barely gotten into their second debate about seating arrangements when Coran’s datapad lit up and he went pale, completely distracted by whatever he read. Lance’s Altean was good, but it wasn’t good enough to read it backwards and distorted by the orange of the datapad. He’d tripped all over his apologies and assured Lance that he would be back the next day and then he was just… gone.

Lance tried to keep himself distracted by focusing on the work Coran had left in his rush to get to… wherever it was that he was needed. It was a bad day for random jolts of nerve pain that stole his breath and made him see stars, but the attempt to be productive worked for a couple of hours, but by the time the nurse (Wynne Adami, not Ezri- it was Ezri’s day off) brought in his dinner, the words had started to swim on the screen and he was having trouble keeping track of who was who in the various delegations.

Seating charts were not a solo project.

He ate his meal while watching old episodes of ‘Bii-Boh Me’ in a futile attempt to keep his mood from plummeting. He was worried about whatever was going on that would make Coran react like that, and frustrated with his own lack of progress… and _lonely_.

It wasn’t something he was proud of, because it wasn't fair of him to expect him to keep putting his life on hold to tend to an injured friend, but he missed Shiro. He loved all his other friends: His Voltron family. The MFEs. His sister and Acxa. Ezor and Zethrid. Kosmo. His Altean buddies from Joodum sector, and the other people he’d befriended through work over the months he’d worked on the Atlas before he’d put himself in the medward. They were great and he appreciated them, he really did… but… they weren’t _Shiro_ and it felt like he’d hardly seen Shiro lately.

God, that made him feel so selfish!

For _months_ Shiro had been a constant support. He’d been his _rock_. What kind of asshole expected someone to keep living through that much upheaval to their normal day-to-day life indefinitely? The last thing he wanted was to be clingy or make Shiro feel like he couldn’t have a life outside of his work shifts and his friendship with Lance. That was a recipe for resentment.

Shiro had gone to the effort of making sure that Lance had the support network that Dr. Bashir had said he needed, specifically _because_ it was too much to ask of one or two people.

A chilling thought occurred to him. What if… Shiro was claiming a heavier workload and more erratic schedule as a response to figuring out how Lance felt about him? What if this was his way of creating some distance? What if… that recipe for resentment was already prepped up and in the oven?

Weird metaphor… but… valid concern. Maybe.

Probably.

Shiiiiiiiit.

He’d fucked up his friendship with Shiro.

Groaning, he pushed the tray table away from him and flopping dramatically back against his bed. He rubbed at his face and through his fingers the stickcom still playing on the screen took on a strange level of contrast and then distorted oddly because of the weird angle for the line of sight. He was _such_ an idiot!

Of course Shiro figured it out, it’s not like Lance didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, or like Shiro didn’t already know him better than pretty much anyone in the world.

A knock at the door pulled his attention away from his spiralling mood. Wynne Adami stepped inside and smiled softly. She wasn’t Lance’s favorite nurse, there was something about the discordance between her soft voice and mannerisms and the steely glint she had in her eyes that just… put him on edge. He didn’t _dislike_ her, he just couldn’t really warm up to her.

“I can clear your tray if you are finished with your meal,” she offered, hands folding primly in front of her, “but I’m here because you are supposed to be more physically active in the evenings. We need to go for a walk.”

“We?” He fought the urge to snap at her. He didn’t need a babysitter, but there was something about the way she said that that made him feel like that was how she saw herself.

“Well, I suppose, if you _want_ to continue to use the walker, you can go by yourself…” Her smile brightened, but didn’t quite reach her eyes, “buuuut if you wanted to use the cane, you need someone with you.”

“The cane?” he’d been working with a cane in PT for about a week, but no one had told him that he’d been cleared to use it outside of a session! “Wynne Adami! You are officially in the running for the title of Nurse of The Day!”

“I thought you might enjoy that news. I take it that’s a yes to using the cane?”

“Absolutely, that is a yes to using the cane!” Maybe his evening was looking up, after all!

* * *

Pain ripped through him, freezing the breath in his lungs and turning his blood to icy fire. His heartbeat drowned out everything else. The pounding, relentless whooshing thuds of his pulse deafening him to anything going on around him.

He woke on a strangled, garbled cry, face already wet with tears, and grabbed at his knee. Rocking on the bed, he managed to force some air in and out of his lungs in short, stuttering little gasps and whimpers.

Holy shit it _hurt_!

Nerve pain… slowly his brain filled in the information that had been pushed out by pain.

He fucking _hated_ nerve pain! It felt… terrifyingly familiar. An explosion of agony that had no warning, no build-up in intensity. It hit when it hit; it hit hard; and it could last a split second… or leave him writhing for hours (in the least fun way imaginable).

Almost as bad as the pain itself, were the flashes of… _something_ that tagged along for the ride with the pain. He suspected they were… memory fragments. Ones he wasn’t really consciously aware of- his brain trying to make sense of what he was feeling by comparing it to things he’d felt in the past. Sharp, bright lights. Heat. A crackling sound. That freefall drop in your guts. His name- in a few different voices- all sounding terrified. He’d certainly been through enough nasty shit for those flashes to be bits of trauma-addled memories.

There was no way he had the mental prowess to figure them out when they happened, and when he looked back on them later, everything was back to being hazy and indistinct. So, odds were good he’d never really figure them out.

Vaguely, he registered the dip of the mattress, the little chime that told him the nurse had been summoned. A hand came to rest on his back, light and warm.

“Sh’ro?” he managed, weak and pitiful.

“Sorry, Lance… it’s just me.” The voice was sleep rough, but familiar.

“Keith!?!?”

“Yeah… they’d already knocked you out when I got here. I’ll explain once they deal with this.”

He didn’t want Keith to explain, he wanted Shiro to be here! Keith didn’t understand. Couldn’t understand.

“Lance, you have to breathe… come on…. Nice and slow… you can do this…”

What the fuck did Keith know? This was… God, it hurt so much!

“Fuck the _pills_! Get him a _shot_! You expect him to go through this level of pain until some pills kick in?? What the _quiznak_ is wrong with you?!?!”

Another voice, hushed and meek, then some rattling, and the hiss and sting of a jet injector. Almost immediately, he felt the now-familiar sensation of pain medication hitting his system.

The relief felt like a cool evening mist on sunburned skin, setting over him all at once.

It was shaky, but he pulled in a full breath, letting it out on a sigh. The hand on his back moved in small, slow circles. It was weird. The pace and pressure was foreign, the attempt to comfort less effective because of its unfamiliarity. It was missing the power of repetition and predictability.

“There we go… okay… Lance, just breathe… let it pass.”

Firm fingers pinched his chin and tipped his face up, light flashing in his eyes and making him flinch. A little monitor was clipped to his finger and a warm hand covered his own, patting softly. “That’s better,” Wynne Adami whispered, “if you get another one, we’ll place an iv for the night. Try to help you get some real rest.”

Lance nodded, still struggling to breathe properly for fear of moving wrong and setting off more pain- even though he knew that was irrational.

“Thank-you,” Keith said, “I’m sorry I snapped… first time I’ve seen… this…”

“I understand… but he should be pretty comfortable soon. Buzz me if you need anything else.”

“Okay,” Lance rasped, swiping at the lingering tears with his free hand. “Can do.” Another soft pat and then the warm hand was gone and he heard the door swish shut. “Keith?? What’s...”

“You’re okay,” Keith assured him, still rubbing those little circles into his back. “Just a bad night for pain, I guess.”

“Mmm,” he nodded. His skin tingled weirdly, but the pain was almost gone. “Okay… I’m okay.” Carefully, he moved the bedding so he could see his leg, needing the visual confirmation that despite what it had felt like, there wasn’t actually any damage.

His fingers traced the border of flesh and metal with just enough pressure not to tickle. The sensation was still weird and vaguely creepy, but he recognized it. Moving his hand lower, he shifted his leg experimentally. It jerked and stuttered- clumsy and erratic- but it did what he was trying to make it do- more or less. Bend and straighten the knee. Point and flex the ankle. Curl and spread the strange metal toes.

“Good. Glad to hear it. Need some water?”

He didn’t, but Keith always functioned better when he had a task, so he nodded. Keith passed him his drink and he took a few small sips, leery of upsetting his stomach by drinking too fast. “What’s going on?”

“Uh.. kind of complicated… Everything is okay, but your sister and Shiro are stuck dealing with something, so I’m taking a sleepover shift.”

“Why you?” He was so confused. It was the middle of the night. What the hell could be going on that needed both Shiro and Veronica? If they were under attack, there’d be alarms going off…even in the medward. So… what? And why was _Keith_ the one camping out and not Pidge who was going a bit bonkers sharing quarters with her parents? Or Hunk? No insult to Keith intended, but of the remaining Paladins, he wasn’t exactly the one known for being a _caretaker_. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to take any offence at the question.

“I was there when they realised they couldn’t leave and I volunteered.” He shrugged, moving back to the cot, “I don’t need as much sleep as most people, and I’ve slept in way worse places than a cot in your room.”

“Oh… yeah, that tracks. Everyone’s okay, though, right?”

“Everyone’s fine, it’s just a time sensitive intel debriefing,” he smiled. Even after all this time, sometimes it still surprised Lance how shy most of Keith’s smiles were. It was like he wasn’t sure if he should be happy about stuff. Most, not all. James managed to coax big, bright smiles out of him. That was actually the thing that made Lance warm up to the idea of two of them dating, given his memories of Griffin being an absolute jackass to Keith back in their cadet days.

“I still have my security clearance,” he pointed out, “you don’t have to be careful about what you say.”

“Yeah, because I’m such a stickler for rules,” Keith said with a snort and an eyeroll. “You really think I’d stay quiet about information that I thought you needed to have because of Garrison bullshit? Come off it. You’re the Red Paladin- my right hand man- that’s not going to change just because the Lions are on walkabout or whatever.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that… Team Leader.” It was always nice to be reminded that he wasn’t the only one that still thought of them as a unit even though they couldn’t form Voltron anymore. “What’s the intel about?”

“It’s uh… about the attack on the settlement. Where you got hurt.”

“Really? That was months ago! I’m surprised that they are still treating that as urgent intel.” It might be the middle of the night, but it was going to take a bit before the adrenaline rush from that _episode_ settled down enough for him to get back to sleep. He shifted on the bed, twisting so he could face Keith a bit better without putting his legs in a potentially painful position.

Keith’s eyebrow quirked up in surprise, “it was a major failing of our intel network, a huge show of force against a civilian settlement in Coalition territory, by a threat that was more organized and better equipped than anyone realised, and that resulted in the serious injury of a highly decorated war hero, Paladin of Voltron, and Ambassador for New Altea. That’s a big fucking deal, Lance.”

“Oh… yeah, I guess I hadn’t really thought about it like that.” It was still sooo weird to hear the words ‘highly decorated war hero’ and connect them to _him_. Despite the way he joked around about his new title and his accomplishments, most of the time he still just felt like that kid from Varadero… only older.

“Yeah. Even if Shiro hadn’t been holding their feet to the fire about getting to the bottom of this, the Coalition would still be taking it seriously… as it stands…” He trailed off, shaking his head, “let’s just say Mom commented on finally understanding where the notoriety of ‘The Champion’ comes from after seeing Shiro’s reaction to all this and leave it at that.”

“I… had no idea. I mean, I knew they weren’t going to let it get swept under the rug, but…” This subject was unsettling. He felt cold and clammy just thinking about it. It was definitely not the best option for middle of the night conversations with a head full of medical grade opiates! “Sorry for keeping you away from Boyband tonight.”

“You are still calling him that? I do not get you. James is your friend! You hang out with him all the damn time! Why do you insist on pretending you hate him?”

“I’m not pretending I hate him,” he argued, “he just… looks like he would be in a boyband- and you know it. Besides, you don’t have to understand it. James gets it.”

“He’s a good guy,” Keith insisted.

“I know that, Keith. Trust me, if I didn’t think he was a good guy, you’d have already gotten an earful from me about it.”

“Shiro said… it’s like… a protective thing?” Keith’s eyes dropped, like he didn’t want to see Lance’s face when he spoke. “Like… how Nadia cornered me and asked me a million questions…”

“Sounds like Shiro,” he answered, not really wanting to spell things out for Keith if he didn’t have to.

“But… she did that one time and you…” Keith made a little frustrated noise, “he… he’s good to me. So… if Shiro’s right, you can stop.”

Shit- he was going to have to spell it out. This wasn’t just Keith being confused about a ‘people thing’, he was _worried_. Genuinely upset. “It’s not that simple,” he answered, “Rivazi didn’t know you. Not really. Once she did, things were fine. I know James. That’s the problem. I was _there_ , remember? I saw the way…” Sighing, he shifted again, “look, I like James. I know you guys are happy- and I am really glad. And… I know people change and grow up and all that, but James has a mean streak and he knows how to push your buttons.”

“I’m not sure I’m following… do you think I can’t defend myself?”

That was such a ridiculous thought that there was no way that Lance could resist the urge to laugh in his medicated state. “You?!?! Dude, I know you better than that! How many times have I seen you fight? No… it’s more like… I gave you shit for a long time, but there were lines I knew not to cross. There were things I knew not to say, because they were just… cruel. There are scars that you should never poke at, and he did. I know he was a kid, and I’m not holding it against him… I’m just… making sure that he knows that I haven’t forgotten. As long as you guys are happy, I’m cool. That changes and so do I. James is my friend but… if he hasn’t outgrown that mean streak; if you guys run into problems and he crosses those lines again… then that will change.”

“I’m not that angry kid anymore, Lance…”

“Keith, it’s not about you being able to handle it. It’s about… okay… You know I can handle myself, right? I mean- before I got hurt.”

“Yeah, of course. Wouldn’t trust you at my six if I didn’t.”

“Right- and we’re all on good terms with Nyma and Rolo now, have been for years… but if I started dating Nyma, you’d be… wary, right? So… he’s my friend, and if you screw things up with him by being an ass, or if you two have, like, a chill break-up someday, he’ll still be my friend…”

“But if he’s the asshole, he won’t be your friend,” Keith finished for him. “Okay. I get it. Shiro’s an idiot! He could have just said that James is Adam and I’d have understood!”

“Keith… buddy… you are underestimating Shiro’s idiocy.” He laughed softly, “I guarantee you, he would never make that comparison, because he doesn’t _get_ that comparison. He probably has no idea you saw Adam that way, and he definitely doesn’t really understand why I give James a hard time.”

“So… it’s not because of anything James is doing _now_.” Keith tended to process information better when he could kind of talk himself through it. For the longest time, it was kind of an internal monologue, but eventually, he’d started trusting people other than Shiro enough to do it outloud. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe what Lance was telling him, it was just how Keith dealt with new information. “It’s because most of the time, the best predictor of future behavior is past behavior… and past behavior is that when James is upset enough, he has a mean streak and you won’t be friends with someone who can’t control their mean streak.”

“Close- lots of people have mean streaks. Pidge immediately springs to mind. Allura used to throw people. Like… literally throw them. People fuck up. It happens.” God, he was barely loopy from those meds but somehow he was still too high for this conversation! “It’s… the mean streak _plus_ how much damage he could do to you if he can’t control it. Voltron is special, Keith. If push comes to shove… You are Voltron. James isn’t.”

Expression serious, Keith nodded, “you don’t have divided loyalties. That’s why you said James gets it, because he’s the same way about the MFEs.”

“Bingo… was there a reason you asked?”

“I need a reason beyond ‘this thing you do makes no sense’?”

“If it was just that, you’d have asked me ages ago. Is everything okay with you and James?”

“What? Oh! Oh, yeah… everything’s fine-”

“-because I’m not going to start hating him if you guys are having normal couple fights. You know that, right? So… if you have boyfriend problems you need to get off your chest, you don’t have to stay quiet to protect him or anything…” Did his pain medication always make him this sappy and he just never noticed? Or, was it just that it was so rare for Keith to talk about shit like this with him?

“Nonono… it’s nothing like that.” Even in the low light, Lance could see Keith’s cheeks go pink. “Things are good… with James, I mean… it’s just… umm.. I’ve kinda been thinking about changing things and… you like pretty much everyone… so… if you didn’t like James… I thought I should ask…”

“Uh-huh... for the record- lots of people I don’t like. ‘Changing things’ how, exactly?” His eyes went wide, “oh my God! Keith? Are you leaving the Blade?”

“No!” Keith’s head snapped up on the word, and if you looked up ‘shock’ in the dictionary, Keith’s expression would be the perfect example. “Fuck no! I love the work I’m doing with the Blade! Not that kind of change… more like… ummm… making things more… official and permanent.”

Holy shit!

“Really?? Holy shit! Keith! That’s awesome! Congrats!” Because of the railing on the bed, Lance couldn’t really hug him, so he had to settle for a fist bump.

“Nothing to congratulate yet.” The light pink of Keith’s blush deepened to red, which was _almost_ as precious as Shiro’s blushes were. “Just something I’m thinking about. Shiro’s been giving me shit about making a decision one way or the other. Keeps telling me to tell James how I feel and what I need from our relationship, which is fucking hilarious coming from him.”

Lance cringed. Keith had a point. It was more than a little ironic that Shiro was advocating for Keith to do that when Keith had had a front row seat to watch Shiro’s engagement implode. He’d botched it terribly, but, essentially, Adam had done just that- told Shiro that he needed him to be more cautious of his health, that he was upset and afraid that Shiro was choosing his career over his safety and his relationship. “Nothing wrong with taking time to think things through before you bring it up with James… but I honestly don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You are cagey as fuck, you’d never even be thinking about this unless, deep down, you were _certain_. The second-guessing is just nerves getting to you.” He fluffed his pillow, “still- sorry for keeping you away from James tonight.”

“Knock it off- James gets it. He’s not gonna get pissy that Shiro and I are both hanging out with our work wives for the night.”

Lance froze, “did you… just… call me your _work wife_?!?!”

“Yup. Remember the night of the gala? When we all went back to Shiro’s and you guys were talk-”

“I remember the conversation, Keith,” he snapped, flabbergasted, “but I’m not your work _wife_ , asswipe! That’s Acxa!”

“Nah- you came first… and she’s Galra, so she’s my Vyran’chi.”

“I’m still not your fucking work wife!”

“No?” Keith sounded like he was trying not to laugh. Was he _laughing_ at Lance? “I thought they all agreed you were the original…”

“Work _husband_ , jackass!”

“I feel like… that’s probably Kolivan, though- right? You seem way more ‘wifely’ than him…”

“What?!?!” What was happening with this conversation!?!? “You’ve gotta be fucking with me right now.”

“Took you long enough to figure that out,” Keith said through actual fucking laughter.

“Youuu… oh my God! Ezor is _such_ a bad influence on you!”

“Go to sleep Lance,” he snickered, settling into the cot, “rest up before the meds wear off.”

“I’m getting back at you for this,” Lance muttered, fixing his blankets with short, irritated movements. “Just you wait.”


	6. Warm White Russion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance has an extremely emotional day.

Growing up, Lance had been a twenty minute (little kid) walk from the ocean. According to the stories, and the photo albums, even as an infant, he’d loved the water. There was something about it that was healing to him. He adored swimming, loved being out in the rain, treasured long baths, and even loved showers. There was nothing and no one that could ever taint his love of water. Ever.

Therefore, he’d ignored Ezor’s rants about the pool. Dismissed them as an ‘Ezor thing’. She was from a desert race, of course she didn’t share his affinity for water! He’d been the _Blue Paladin_ for fuck’s sake- Guardian of _Water_ (just never ask him to explain about the connection with Red and fire… he still hadn’t quite figured that out. His temper, maybe? Passionate nature?)!

So, when he’d arrived at PT that morning to find out that today was the day they were going to have him walk across the shallow end of the pool, he’d been _excited_. He’d been struggling with his gait and Polaski thought that the added resistance of the water might help them identify where he was running into issues.

They’d taken a wheelchair to the little therapeutic pool he didn’t even know the Atlas had, and he’d been practically vibrating with excitement. He hadn’t even had so much as a proper bubble bath since he’d been hurt. Just sponge baths and eventually showers- and those had been _supervised_. He couldn’t wait to get into the water, and he was pretty sure that, when he aced the gait thing, he’d be able to convince Polaski to let him do a couple of laps. Nothing major. Just a few minutes where he could cut through the water and feel _like himself_ again.

He’d felt like a little kid at Christmas. You’d swear the twenty by twenty, four foot deep pool was pure magic based on the amount of joy the sight of it filled him with. Polaski had chuckled at his enthusiasm, commented on how good it was to see him brighten up again because his mood had been flagging recently.

It had taken more effort than he wanted to admit, but he sat there and nodded along with the explanation of all the extra safety protocols and policies, the demonstration of the exercises they’d be doing (walking. They were going to be doing walking. In the pool. Walk forward. Walk backward. Step to each side. Turn in each direction. It was allll walking.) like a good patient, because he was pretty sure that if he didn’t they’d call it off, and at this point he was so close to the water he could taste the chlorine in the air. If he got _that_ close and didn’t get to get _in_ the water, he wasn’t sure he’d recover.

To get into the water he had to (shockingly) walk down a ramp that was flanked with railings exactly like the ones he’d been using in his usual PT sessions. Instead of concrete or tile or any of the other things he’d encountered as pool bottoms, this pool seemed to be lined with the same stuff as the grippy turtle stickers his grandmother had stuck all over her pink bathtub when he was a kid were made of.

His grin lasted exactly as long as it took for him to get deep enough that the water crested his knees. _“I hated it because it felt weird on my scars…”_ Ezor had said. He hadn’t really thought it would feel any different from the shower spray running over them, so he’d dismissed it.

He’d been wrong.

So wrong.

The water felt… like bugs crawling _under_ his scars… and made him very aware of just how many of them there were. His right leg had been crushed beyond salvage, but his left hadn’t been _uninjured_. There’d been multiple slices and punctures that had needed repairing- most of them small enough not to have really registered compared to everything else.

“I… don’t like this,” he’d managed to say, instantly ashamed of how young and scared and _weak_ his voice sounded.

“You’re okay,” assured Polaski. “You can stop for a minute and adjust if you need to.”

Waiting might help… or it might just mean he’d have to feel like _this_ for even longer. “Nope! I’m good!” Something close to panic clawed at him as he forced himself to move deeper and deeper into the water.

It was like a living nightmare!

Water.

His ultimate ‘safe space’.

His first love.

Turned against him.

His stomach churned and he could feel his arms shaking as he fought against the instinct to _flee_. Every step took him deeper into the water, and at some point, the horror of more and more of his body feeling like it was filled with _worms_ brought tears to his eyes.

Still, he had never let fear stop him before, and he wasn’t about to let it now. So, he pushed through.

He got all the way down the ramp, and even did well when he reached the end of the right hand railing. Polaski coached him through the shift to a single support, reminding him to use the railing like his cane, so he split his weight between his left arm and his new leg. He screwed his eyes shut and choked back sobs, trusting her to guide his steps.

After what felt like a year, he reached the far end of the pool. Polaski told him to grab onto the handrail that was in front of him for support and step to the side. He nodded and braced himself for more movement. The waterline sat at mid-chest, all of his scars submerged.

He kept waiting for the awful feeling to go away. Kept forcing him to take another step, and another, because either it would get better and he could relax… or it wouldn’t, and the faster he was done, the sooner he could make it stop.

“Lance?” Polaski’s voice was uncharacteristically gentle when she caught his attention after he’d side-stepped back to the corner of the pool. “Are you okay?”

“Mmmhmm,” he answered, nodding frantically with his eyes and lips closed so tightly they hurt. For good measure, he lifted one hand out of the water and gave her a thumbs up.

“Because you were just chanting ‘make it stop’. Lance, are you in pain?”

“Nope! No pain. Let’s just… keep going. Backwards now, right?”

“You’re sure?”

He nodded again, giving her another thumbs up.

“Alright- yes, backwards. Now, be very careful! It’s trickier than you think and you need to go very slow. Make sure you take the time to get your weight properly supported before you step or move your hand on the railing.”

“Got it,” he croaked, choking off a sob at the end.

Almost done.

Almost done.

Almost done. Almost done. Almost done. Almostdone.

AlmostdoneAlmostdoneAlmostdonealmostdone… almost… almostalmost…

His right foot slipped, the metal moving differently than he was expecting and as he went down, he spun, grabbing the railing instinctively. Water closed over his head for a fraction of a second before he wrenched himself out of the water with a shriek.

He couldn’t stop screaming.

He tried. He genuinely tried. He knew he was safe.

Logically, he knew that.

Just like, logically, he knew that the hands that grabbed him under his arms were Polaski’s and not a threat.

And, logically, he knew that being hoisted out of the water was what he wanted to happen.

Logic did shit fuck all to shut him up, or keep him from thrashing and clawing at the person _helping_ him.

He didn’t calm down until After he was leaning against a wall with an oxygen mask on his face and warm towels piled on top of him.

The shriek faded into a pained whimper and exhaustion swamped him.

“We’re done,” Polaski said, kind and gentle. It was a new look for her and it took a second for him to trust it. Once he saw that she was serious, the relief was so profound that he dissolved into tears. She grabbed his hand, helping him stay anchored in reality. “I’m cancelling the rest of your day. You need to rest. No work. No more therapy. Rest. This afternoon, try to take a walk, so you don’t get stiff. Other than that, nothing. Got it?”

“But…”

“No buts… that… was traumatic for you. Rest. That’s an order.”

“No more pool?” Fear made him tremble, his stomach churning. He could taste and smell vomit, but he didn’t remember getting sick.

“Not today,” she assured him, “probably not for a while, and when we do, we’ll be approaching it differently. Lance… I won’t let you lose water, too. Okay?”

“Okay,” he whimpered, curling into the cooling towels.

“Take a few minutes, and then we’ll get you back to your room and into some dry clothes.”

“Thank-you… for not being a hardass…”

“Lance, first and foremost, I’m a healer… I push you to get better, so you heal well. Today? That wasn’t healing. You aren’t going through that again.”

“Thank you so much,” he repeated, falling into tears again.

After that, things got fuzzy. He kind of remembered Ezri rinsing the chlorine off his skin with warm cloths, then drying him off and helping him into his own clothes. There were dishes on his tray table, so he’d eaten at some point. Other than that, his day was pretty much a mystery.

He wasn’t even scared or sad anymore... just… so _angry_.

Rage boiled in his gut, sizzled and steamed in his flesh.

Impotent, pointless, futile rage over an _accident_. Whoever had been piloting that firebug had been killed, James had confirmed that himself.

Even that made Lance furious- he couldn’t confront the person who’d left him like this. Couldn’t demand answers from them. Couldn’t make them defend their choice to attack a civilian settlement. Couldn’t do _anything_!

He’d tried so hard to stay positive, to focus on the good things, to be grateful that things hadn’t been worse. He’d tried to resist giving in to his growing frustration with how slow his healing was progressing. Tried to be understanding about the demands of regular life that meant that he spent more and more time alone… or feeling like he was being babysat. Tried to make sure that losing his leg didn’t define who he was now.

He tried so hard to do so many things… and… unsurprisingly… he’d failed.

It felt like he was right back at the Galaxy Garrison, failing simulation after simulation. Like he had nothing left to offer.

There was so little that he really had any control over, and he’d tried to concentrate on those few things.

His attitude.

He snorted, disdainful, and reflected on his day so far.

Failed.

The people he cared about.

Well, he royally fucked up his friendship with Shiro to the point that the man was actively avoiding him. He could barely manage to face his family on a vid-call without being crippled by guilt and the sinking sensation that he was nothing but a source of pain for them. He was pretty sure he’d screamed at both Pidge and Hunk today when they’d come to check on him… if he was even remembering the right day…

Failed.

Putting in the work and effort at PT to get himself home to his own quarters.

Well, he’d had a full-blown tantrum at his most recent session… soo… yeah...

Big fat F on that, too.

He should have just… gone home when Dr. Bashir had told him to.

Given up on this half-baked plan of Coran’s to make him a fucking _Ambassador_ and gone back to the farm. How had he ever thought that was something he’d be _good_ at?

He wasn’t even _sad_ about it. Any of it. Just mad at himself for being so… gullible. Mad at the universe for being so fucking unfair and random. Mad at his body for not healing fast enough. At the people around him for letting him hang on to his _delusions_ that he was ever going to be anything but the dumb one, the expendable Paladin. Mad that they’d wasted ground-breaking tech on someone who was never going to amount to anything but a footnote at the bottom of history’s record of his dead girlfriend and the name that would trip students up when asked to list all the Paladins of Voltron. Shiro. Keith. Hunk. Pidge, Princess Allura… and… the other one.

There was a knock at the door and he reached to grab the box of tissues to throw at it, only to see them lying on the floor near the doorway.

Shit.

He’d already used them to get rid of his sister.

“I’m not in the mood!” He barked at the door, which fucking slid open anyway.

“I was wondering when the anger would show up,” Shiro said softly.

Mad at himself for falling in love with someone so far out of his league… again. You’d think he’d have learned his lesson when he stood by and let the woman he loved sacrifice herself without insisting that she use his quintessence too, to make sure she survived.

“Yeah? Well, here it is. I’m fucking mad as hell!”

“Good. I was really starting to worry.”

What??? Just…

“What?!?!”

“You’ve gotten sad, scared, hopeful, determined… frustrated… even heartbroken… but not angry. I was really starting to worry that the rage hadn’t hit yet.”

“Get an eyeful then, because this is it… and then you can stop worrying and get back to whatever meeting you are supposed to be at, Captain.” He didn’t want to be around anyone right now- why couldn’t people grasp that?? Shiro had been avoiding him for ages- he’d barely seen him at all for _days_! So, why the fuck was he here righ- oh. Of fucking course! “I know my sister sent you to try to calm me down…. And you tried, so… yay for you! Go tell her it didn’t work.”

“Roni told me to give you some space to cool off,” he said conversationally, stepping into the room. “Last time she told me to do that, I ignored her and we went shooting, remember?”

“Cans… on the beach.”

“Yup, and I told you about the fight with Adam… and we screamed at the ocean for a bit.”

“... and then we got shit-faced and had to walk all the way back to the farm because the old truck didn’t have self-nav.”

“Can’t take you shooting right now- I tried, it’s a nightmare of paperwork and I need like three different forms each from five different people… sorry.”

“You tried to get me cleared for firearms?” That was so unexpected that it made him pause, the fiery anger backing off a bit as he turned to face Shiro.

“Worked last time,” he answered with a shrug. “Solid plan, I think. Bring the angry sharpshooter to the range. Let him rip apart some targets. Remember his calm.”

“I remember it… just not feeling it.”

“Helps to be reminded of the things you are good at when you lose yourself a bit,” Shiro replied, “like… to _feel_ it again, not just hear the words. So, since shooting isn’t an option, and based on what I’ve heard about your day, screaming at water might be a bad idea… I had to go digging a little further back in my memories… and then I thought of two things.”

“Ooh… two whole things other than firing a gun that I can do? That took digging did it?”

“Bitter? Alright, noted. Makes sense. I’ll sing your praises another time, this time I needed something that fit specific parameters. So, we’re going for a walk… because you need to… and because I have an idea.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere, Shiro. Just say what you are going to say and go.”

“Nope. The day you got hurt, you reminded me that I only out-rank you when you are on the Atlas… and… check it out… you are on the Atlas. So, we are going for a walk.”

“No.”

“If you don’t come for a walk with me, you’ll never know what two things I thought of.” He grinned, “and that’s going to drive you nuts.”

Lance glared at him, but Shiro’s smile never faltered. Eventually one silvery brow quirked up in challenge.

“Fuck,” muttered Lance, pushing the tray table away and throwing back the bedding. “Fine. I have to walk for Polaski anyway. You are such a pain in the ass, you know that, right?”

“Call it payback for dealing with Lance McClain ages seventeen and eighteen.”

“Oh, fuck off. It wasn’t that bad, I made some bad jokes and flirted too much with the Princess… which _worked_ for the record, despite everyone acting like it was hopeless.”

“It wasn’t your cheesy lines that won over Allura,” Shiro pointed out, holding him steady while he put on his slippers and grabbed his cane, “it was getting to know who you really are beyond the fuckboy act.”

“Did you… just call me a _fuckboy_? Shiro! Seriously?!?!”

“I said it was an _act_ , Lance, breathe.” He took Lance’s right hand, since he was using the cane in his left. It didn’t _mean_ anything, he was just offering support, since Lance’s walking with the artificial leg was still laborious and awkward. “Don’t worry, we aren’t going far, but I’m getting you off the medward, at least.”

“Oooh… exciting.” He was walking. It didn’t mean he was any less angry.

“Okay, I have to ask- is that the _same_ shirt that you had on the Castle of Lions?”

“What? Are you nuts? That old thing? By the time we got home, it was barely holding together. Besides, I’ve filled out a bit since then!” He did his best not to actually lean on Shiro, to focus on making his own way. He’d become too much of a burden on everyone as it was, and Shiro wouldn’t always be around. “I like baseball tees… and blue is kind of my color.”

“Oh, trust me, I remember,” Shiro said, his voice sad.

Great. Now in addition to the anger that still churned in his belly, and the lingering traces of the fear and panic from earlier dripping down his spin like ice-melt, he was _worried_ about Shiro. Fuck! “Everything okay?” he asked despite himself.

“You mean other than you having a shitty day?” Shiro sighed, “yeah. Everything’s fine. I just… they think they’ve tracked down that faction of Zarkon Loyalists. Some of the Coalition reps think we should try to broker a peace, invite them into the coalition. I disagree.”

Lance stopped short, “ _that’s_ what Keith was talking about?? They attacked a civilian settlement! Unprovoked! The Coalition has been up and running for years, Zarkon’s been dead for _ages_! Anyone who is still stirring up unprovoked violence against civilians at this point is doing it because they _like_ carnage! They are seeking it out! What is the Blade saying?”

“Krolia, Kolivan, and Keith agree with me,” Shiro answered, squeezing Lance’s hand, “so do Veronica and Coran. The others are claiming we are too close to the situation, given… uh… everything.”

“That sounds like Sonda bullshit. ‘You can’t be objective because you are too close’... like, um, nooo… you guys are _witnesses_ to how these assholes operate. It’s not ‘too close’ it’s ‘first hand experience’. She learned her lesson, but it cost her her life. You’d think the big muckety mucks would remember that. Jesus, I can’t believe that even after all this time…” He trailed off into a growl, “you’ve brokered peace with so many fractured bits of the Empire that captured you and… Fuck, what is it going to take before the brass _trust_ you!?!”

Humming an acknowledgement of what he’d said, Shiro smiled at him, the expression almost smug.

“What?”

“Just… nice to know that even though you are pissed I haven’t been around as much, you’ve still got my back.”

“I never said I was pissed at you for not being around as much,” he pointed out.

Shiro stopped walking, waited for Lance to also stop, and then carefully hip-bumped him. “You kind of did, though.” scrunching up his face adorably, he nodded like a bobblehead. “You think I can’t speak Lance McClain? Pssssh… I’m fucking fluent.”

Shiro took another step, but Lance stayed put, just staring at him… because… “Okay, first of all, I am not that easy to read… and second of all, I did _not_ say I was pissed at you for not being around as much. You are busy. I know that. You have a job and a life and it isn’t fair of me to expect that yo-”

“That sounds like a script. Like you’ve said it a million times- probably while talking yourself down from being pissed at me.” Another step, and this time Lance was stumbling after him, trying to coordinate all of his limbs and his cane.

“It’s not a scri-” A door slid open a little further down the corridor. He’d been too distracted to notice that Shiro’s floating arm was doing the creepy thing again and not even pretending to be tethered to him. Through the door, he could see grid markings on the wall and, just like that, Lance realised where they were.

Mother fucker- it was going to be really hard to stay mad, he could just _tell_.

“Is that the Observatory?” He asked, looking up at Shiro.

“When we were on the castleship… in the beginning, I used to find you staring at their star maps, remember? All hours of the night, you’d end up there and I’d end up there, and we’d talk.” Shiro’s voice was distracted, but fond.

“I remember. I thought you were keeping tabs on me for the longest time. Took forever to realise that you had insomnia.”

“The first night Kaltenecker was on the ship, right before lights out, you showed up with a mug of warm milk for me.”

“Still say that would have worked if it had a shot of vodka or something in it.”

“A warm White Russian? That’s a White Russian- all it’s missing is coffee liqueur and ice, Lance.”

“It would have worked though,” he insisted as Shiro helped him navigate the door.

“Not the point… the point is that when you were hurting and there was no ocean, you sought out the stars. That’s one of the things I remembered.”

Stunned, Lance let himself be led to a loveseat-looking thing that definitely didn’t start out in this room. Once he was settled, Shiro set the cane and took a seat beside him. Around them, galaxies spun into being, one of the mapping programs loading up. Lance recognized it. Arusian space. Where Voltron had become a team and they’d all signed on to step into the shoes of the original Paladins.

Oh, this wasn’t fair!

It wasn’t fair how easily Shiro could distract him from his… identity crisis or whatever.

It wasn’t fair how he was coaxing that burning rage to die down to embers of righteous anger.

It wasn’t _fair_ that he kept doing such sweet, incredible things and making Lance fall a little bit more in love with him every time. Not when he didn’t love him back!

Because, this?

This was amazing. It was perfect.

Shiro put effort into this… and it was so thoughtful.

It was exactly what he needed- got him off the medward (and under his own power, no less!), distracted him from his spiral, reminded him of how _beautiful_ their reality could be, even with all the bad shit, reminded him that he’d survived other hardships and returned to himself.

“The seats recline,” Shiro said, handing him a bottle of…

“Root beer?!?!”

“Yup- doctor said no go on real beer, so I had to do a swap. Just... hit that button to recline annnd….” Tapping his datapad, he grinned. Music filled the room. “Garrison student radio is broadcast on every ship. You just need to know the frequency. It’s a tactical thing. They broadcast it constantly so enemy intel gathering hears nothing but music and they dismiss it as an information source… and then if our communication web is compromised, they can send coded messages over student radio.”

“Clever.” It was so hard to remember that this was just… Shiro being Shiro… and not some kind of romantic overture.

This was just the kind of friend that Shiro was. Lance had seen him bend over backwards for Keith for years. He saw how Shiro discretely watched over everyone, ready to step up when they needed it. This wasn’t really anything more than Shiro seeing a friend who needed support and providing it. Even if it was soft music and (root)beer under the stars, alone and reclining side by side… that he’d manufactured out of thin air for the express purpose of cheering Lance up.

How the _entire population_ of… basically everything… wasn’t already in love with Takashi Shirogane, Lance would never know- because he was a man who did shit like _this_ unprompted for a hurting friend!

If he started asking questions and poking at Lance to talk about what he was feeling, Lance was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to stick to the shit about his leg. So… he had to avoid that at all costs. “Keith and the Generals spent a few hours hanging out the other day,” he said a tad too brightly, steering the conversation away from his shitty day.

“I’ve heard. How was that?”

“Kind of fun, actually. I showed Ezor that video compilation of wet cats that look like the Black Paladin.”

“The one you made and posted online with a fake account, and then reblogged it from your verified one so it would go viral?”

“Yeah, Shiro, of course that one. Wait- is there another one I don’t know about?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” he said, voice dry, “no.”

“Good- if you find another one though, send it to me.” He swigged his root beer looking up at the little holoprojections of the stars.

“That explains the little squeak she’s been making at Keith, at least.”

“Oh yeah, she loved the bit with the little black kitten that fell in a puddle and kept meeping until its mother came and got it.” He smiled at the memory, “she thought the whole thing was so funny, and the more she laughed, the more Keith made _that face_ and she’d cackle ‘angery wet kitten!’ and laugh even harder.”

“That explains why Keith looked like he smelled something awful the whole next day.” Shiro squeezed his hand, “feeling better?”

“Yeah.” It was true. He was still mad, but he didn’t hate himself anymore, and he wasn’t lashing out, which was an improvement. “Thanks.”

“It was nothing.”

“Nothing, huh? Who’d you get to lug this thing in here?”

Shiro had the grace to look sheepish at that, “Krolia? Took her like ten minutes, tops.”

“You got Keith’s mom to move furniture for you? How? What did you tell her?”

“That you needed it. She didn’t ask anything else.”

“Oh… wow…”

“Her son is alive because of you, Lance.”

“Keith would have been fine if I hadn’t been there… don’t exaggerate. It probably went more smoothly, ended faster, but he’d have been okay.”

“It’s not about that one mission, Lance… why do you do that?” Shiro twisted to look at him.

“Do what?”

“Downplay your role in things. It used to drive me nuts the way you’d crow about stupid victories like beating Keith at darts, or winning some bullshit competition you and Pidge cooked up. They were so trivial and you turned them into these huge spectacles… but the real missions? You act like you weren’t even there or something…”

He went quiet, trying to think of a way to explain it to Shiro in a way that made sense. “It’s complicated… you guys… you were all… kind of larger than life, and I… I’m just me. You know? But… it’s more… I know providing cover is important… and I know I’m good at it… but, it’s not like I’m in the thick of things, you know?”

“You’ve been in the thick of plenty of fights, Lance.” His voice was so soft, concerned… with a hint of frustration. This really did bother him.

Lance just shrugged, taking another sip of his root beer. He wished he could explain, but Shiro would never really understand. He’d always been their leader, heading the charge and taking out enemies with an efficiency that was awe-inspiring. Lance didn’t know how to put his feelings into words without it coming across like he was fishing for compliments or something.

“Oh,” Shiro said after a moment, letting out a sigh and sitting back again. “The second thing I remembered… in case you were wondering… was the night we hung out on the roof of the dorms.”

“Well, that explains the attempt to get beer,” he replied, “but this is the wrong starscape.”

“Do you remember what you told me? When I talked about… the fights? You said that you couldn’t tell me if doing that had changed me, because you didn’t know me before… but you could promise that it hadn’t ruined me, because you knew me after, and I was still a good person.”

“Because you _are_. Shiro, you fought and killed because you were forced to. There is no shame in killing in self defence.”

“That’s it, isn’t it? That’s why you don’t take credit for… ‘no shame in killing in self defence’... providing cover fire… it’s not a case of him or me. It’s not self-defence.” Shiro’s hand found his again, his thumb rubbing over Lance’s knuckles. “Lance? Are you _ashamed_ of your sniper skills?”

“Not that simple,” he whispered, “I know it’s needed. I know I’m good at it. I… I unlocked a sword… did you know that? I was training one day and my bayard… it formed a sword. Altean Broadsword. Allura saw it, said it was the same weapon her father fought with. Said it proved I had greatness within me. I never really got to do much with it.”

“She didn’t mean it like that, Lance. She told me about that, remember? Close quarters fighting isn’t better or more honorable than ranged. You’ve done plenty of melee fighting, too… and the Red Paladin is Voltron’s sword arm.”

“It’s just… hard to feel like there was no other option than picking people off from a safe distance, Shiro, that’s all.”

“There’s no such thing as a safe distance, Lance,” he croaked, squeezing his hand tight, “you almost died. You got hurt laying down cover for them, protecting our people, protecting _children_... when I tried to pull you out of there, you hid your injuries and I can’t even be mad about you lying to me, because you said you were needed and _you were right_. I can’t remember a single time that you’ve been wrong about tactical decisions, did you know that?”

“Impossible. I’m the dumb one, remember?”

“You are not- I don’t give a shit who says you are, because they are _wrong_. Keith and I talked about it, when you were… before you woke up. Every time you made a suggestion or disagreed with our plan and we ignored it, it was a shitshow. Every. Time. For both of us. So, if you assess a situation and decide that you need to take that shot, I have no doubts that it was the best possible option. Always.”

He was almost afraid to look at Shiro, afraid of what might come spilling out of his mouth if he did… but he couldn’t _not_ look at him! He had to see for himself that he was serious. He had to see those grey eyes shining with sincerity before he could let himself believe what Shiro was saying to him.

Reluctantly, he pulled his focus away from the pretty stars and settled it on that beloved face.

Shiro was telling the truth. Lance could see it in every line of him. “You really have that much faith in me?”

He nodded, “absolutely. I’ve learned my lesson about doubting you.”

He took a breath, chest shaking on the inhale and hitching as he let it out. He couldn’t speak. He had no idea what to say to that, where to start… there was just… so much. He needed time to sort through it. Figure himself out again.

“You trust my judgement, right?” Shiro asked gently, and he nodded. “Okay, good. Next time all those old doubts and insecurities fuck with you head? Trust _me_ , alright? This kind of injury… it drags you to some dark, dark places on your way back from it. When you can’t trust yourself to see through the pain, remember this conversation and just… trust me for a bit… because I know you, Lance, better than almost anyone, and I _know_ you’ve got this. You’ve got this.”

“I got this,” he echoed, mustering up a bit of a smile. It was watery and lackluster, but it was a real smile and he knew that Shiro could tell.

“Okay. Good. Now… tell me about your Grandda McClain and how you ended up with Fergus as a middle name.”

The little laugh that prompted surprised him, but Lance nodded, settling back into his seat with his root beer to tell the tale of his father’s father. He stumbled a little at first, trying to shift gears from such a heavy conversation to a story he’d grown-up with and loved. “We all have a Scottish middle name. Luis has Malcolm, Marco has Conall, Rachel has Moira… and you know mine and Roni’s. All our cousins on dad’s side do, too, because Grandda’s from Scotland. My grandparents met at University. They were both going to school in the states and they got together when they were students. This was right before the war, so things were different…”

Shiro nodded along, just letting Lance talk. This was normal. Familiar. Him rambling about his family and Shiro listening with that little smile. It didn’t take long for him to relax into the comfort of the familiarity of it, spinning out the tale of how his grandparents’ education was interrupted by the first volleys of conflict that would quickly escalate into the third world war. Once it did, Scotland and Cuba ended up on different sides, and Lance’s grandfather sold everything he had to get enough money to get them both out of the states. By that time, things had destabilized to the point that he didn’t trust that she would be able to safely get to Cuba alone… so instead of returning to his own home, he went with her.

They’d known that he wasn’t going to be allowed to disembark on Cuban soil, and he insisted he’d figure something out, but Lance’s grandmother came up with her own plan and snuck off to make a deal with the captain of the boat that they were hiding on. It wasn’t a guarantee, but he had a better chance of not being turned away if he had some claim to stay. So, they’d gotten married on the deck of a smugglers ship, and when they got to Cuba, they managed to bribe and wheedle their way to the Sorreno’s farm. Six months later, Lance’s eldest aunt was born.

“They were brave,” Shiro observed, “stubborn. Resilient. Explains a lot about you and your sister.”

“Grandda never got to go back to Scotland, the fighting was so much worse in Europe. Heavy losses. We’re all named after relatives. Most of them we never met.”

“Most?”

He smiled, “I’m the youngest. Grandda was sick when I was born. He got better, but it looked bad for a while. Fergus… I’m named after him. He always called us by our Scottish names, but… he’s Fergus, so…”

“So, you were Fergie?” he guessed, smiling, “that’s cute. Sweet.”

“After I got home… the occupation. He hasn’t been the same since. Doesn’t talk much. He’s old. I don’t want anyone else to call me that anymore. It’s his name for me… and I don’t know how much longer I’ll have him, so… I want him to be the last one who calls me that. That’s why I made her promise… It’s… sappy… I know.”

“Nothing wrong with sappy. You should call home, talk to him. Hear him call you that again.”

“Yeah… I wanted to be… better before I called him. I didn’t want him to see…”

“You walked the whole way here, Lance. Sure, you needed a cane, but you… I think you are only seeing how far you are from your goal, not how far you’ve come. And for a vid-call? In a shirt and pajama pants you look like yourself. There are no bandages, no visible scars. No more tubes or wires. You’ve got your new leg. This is just… You.”

“I guess… Yeah. I’ll give him a call soon. It’ll be good to see him.”

“I think it would mean a lot to him. I mean, I’ve never met him, but… your family is so close. I bet it would make his day.”

Lance laughed, “he’s in a care facility. He’ll probably make a big fuss about ‘my Fergie, the hero’ and make me say hi to everyone.”

“You’ll have to break out the ol’Razzle Dazzle. Win them all over.”

“I’m pretty rusty, but I can probably manage to sweep a few senior citizens off their feet.”

“Be careful, it is a care facility, after all. Not sure they can handle too much of that patented Loverboy Lance charm.”

He snorted, “I’ll keep that in mind. Hey- can you switch this to our stars? Feeling a little closer to home now.”

“Sure thing,” his floating arm sailed across the room to punch in the new coordinates. “I’m always happy to look at the stars I fell in love with as a kid.”

Idly, Lance wondered if it was weird that he didn’t find that kind of thing strange anymore. Shiro’s arm was just… Shiro’s arm and seeing it zip around was no stranger to him than seeing the blue crescents on his cheeks in his own reflection. “Thanks, Shiro… for not listening to Roni earlier. This… really helped.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that, Lance. You’d do the same for me. You have. More than once.” Clearing his throat, Shiro grabbed another bottle of root beer and settled back in the seat, “should probably head back soon, though. I’ve got that data crystal from Pidge with all the movies from home.”

“Yeah,” he yawned softly. It was amazing how exhausting dealing with emotional shit could be.

Shiro draped his arm over his shoulders and tugged him closer. “Rest. It’s been a long day.”

“Actually… why don’t we head back now- watch something funny?”

“Yeah? You’re sure? We don’t have to…”

“We can stay if you want to see more of the Milky Way, but… I think I’m good.”

“Nah… I’m good. Just let me get this stuff ready to get cleared away and shut off the program.”

While Shiro dealt with that, Lance scooted to the edge of the loveseat and reached for the cane. He felt like he’d just run one of Coran’s training gauntlets, but for the first time in a long time, he also felt like _himself_. No act, or ‘fake it till you make it’ stuff. Just… Lance. It was easier to breathe, easier to just… exist within his own skin… and clearly, despite his worries, he hadn’t completely ruined his friendship with Shiro. Just knowing that made him feel so much better about everything.

Bracing his weight the way he’d been taught, he stood...

...and let out a squeal

He must have hit the recline button because the instant he lifted off the seat, the footrest shot out, knocking into the prosthetic and the armrest angled down, throwing him even further off-balance.

“Lance!” He barely even registered that he was falling before he was swept up. The cane clattered to the floor and he grabbed a fistfull of uniform jacket.

Heart racing, he let out a nervous laugh… because he was okay. He was okay. He hadn’t fallen on his ass and he was okay. “Oh my God,” he giggled, “I knew I was rusty, but.. Quiznak…. I didn’t think it was that bad! I’m the one who is supposed to be sweeping people off their feet, remember? Loverboy Lance and his Razzle Dazzle?” Still laughing, he tipped his face up to grin at Shiro… and froze…

Shiro was blushing.

The rosy cheeks were adorable, and the tips of his ears were red against that silvery white hair of his.

“Um…” Shiro cleared his throat, eyes darting around like he didn’t know where to look.

“I said… I’m the one supposed to be sweeping people off their feet,” he repeated, hoping to prompt a laugh and break the strange tension that had cropped up out of nowhere.

“Yeah…”

“Shiro? You okay?”

“What? Oh. Yeah… I’m fine… it’s… fine…” He shifted, like he was going to set Lance down, only to correct himself and settle him more securely in his arms. His eyes darted up, the lids closing for a beat as he took a quick breath. “You... uh… you’re not that rusty, Lance.”

“Pretty sure I am,” he insisted, keeping the tone light, “but it’s sweet that you have faith that I can still sweep someone off their feet.”

Another of those little breaths and Lance could swear the blush got darker, “maybe this is just… my turn…”

“You say that like I’ve already swept you off your feet,” he teased, letting out a nervous giggle… because… what the actual fuck was going on right now?

“I mean… you have. Ages ago… This is…”

“Shiro?” He tugged at the uniform jacket, trying to get Shiro to look at him. It took a second, but he did, those familiar grey eyes meeting Lance’s gaze. He smiled sheepishly and gave a little half shrug, clearing his throat again. But those eyes… those expressive eyes of his… they _burned_. “Oh my God,” he breathed, “you’re _serious_...”

It wasn’t a question, but Shiro nodded anyway. “Yeah… I am… I’m serious.”

“You… Wow… you really know how to make the most of a moment, huh?” He glanced around, his fall had interrupted Shiro, so the music was still playing, the stars still shining above them.

“Well, it wasn’t a _plan_... so…” He shrugged again, making Lance bounce a little.

“This is very romantic,” he pointed out in the softest whisper he’d ever heard himself make. “Kinda overkill, really…” Tugging on Shiro’s jacket again, Lance pulled himself up a little higher, his other arm wrapping around the back of Shiro’s neck.

Their eyes locked for a heartbeat, and Lance got to watch realisation dawn in the warm grey depths before Shiro closed the small distance between them and kissed him.

It was gentle.

So gentle.

Warmth bloomed in his chest, spreading through him until he could feel himself practically glowing from it.

Shiro’s hand curled around his ribs, lifting him just a little more.

Lance sighed, craning up in an attempt to deepen the kiss. Shiro smiled against his lips, and pulled back, bumping their noses together. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long…”

“I hope it was worth the wait,” Lance answered, suddenly feeling shy. He shifted his arms, so he could hold Shiro a little better.

“It was,” he breathed, his thumb trailing back and forth over the skin of Lance’s thigh. “Are we on the same page, Lance?”

“If your page is the one where I can stop telling Ezri that she’s nuts and we’re just friends, then… yeah… I’m right there with you…”

“Did… did you just answer that question by talking about flirting with your nurse?”

“What? No!” He laughed, shaking his head, “no… she keeps calling you my boyfriend, making comments about us being a cute couple… I’ve been correcting her… it’s… I don’t want to talk about Ezri...”

Shiro relaxed, laughing with him, “no? What do you want to do then?”

“Well, not sure if you noticed, but I’m currently in the arms of a very handsome man… in this really romantic setting… and there was such a lovely kiss just a minute ago… So… more of those sounds pretty perfect to me…”

“More kisses?” Shiro confirmed, beaming at him when he nodded. “More kisses sounds pretty perfect to me, too.”

“Good,” Lance breathed, pressing his lips to Shiro’s. They were warm and velvety against Lance’s own. He tasted sweet, like root beer, and the gentle little kisses filled Lance with giddy butterflies. Shiro caught his sigh, licking into his mouth and a shiver ran down Lance’s spine. His fingers clenched in the fabric of the uniform. Shiro held him steady as a rock, floating arm against his back, flesh one holding his leg, warm and strong.

He parted for him, his own tongue sweeping out to meet Shiro’s eagerly. The moan that rolled through Shiro at that? Yeah, it made Lance’s head swim. He pressed closer, losing himself in the kisses.

At some point, Shiro backed up, still holding Lance tight and kissing him like he was the air he breathed as he sat them both back in the reclining seat. Lance settled into Shiro’s lap, gasping when familiar fingers slid into his hair,the sensation anything but relaxing in this new context. He finally let go of Shiro’s jacket to cup his jaw, feeling the slight prickle of his five o’clock shadow against his palm and fingers.

The rest of the world melted away, nothing existed but the two of them. It had been so long since Lance had felt anything close to this with anyone. It was such a heady rush. So intoxicating to kiss and touch someone he _loved_. So much more powerful than simple attraction.

Having Shiro in his arms made him feel safe and powerful at the same time, happiness bubbling through him, desire tingling along his skin. Soft, needy little noises escaped them, but neither of them was in any rush. Shiro wasn’t going anywhere. Neither was Lance. They’d both waited too long for this to rush through it.

Not when the kisses were _this good_.

This sweet.

This romantic.

This potent.

“Lance,” Shiro whispered between sweet little brushes of lips against Lance’s.

“Shiro,” he answered, chasing the contact.

“Lance,” he purred, turning his head to nuzzle Lance’s throat, which triggered the most delicious little tingles. “Hang on, sweetheart… just…”

Oh, God, he was so weak for pet names! “Mmmm?” He drew in a shaky breath, blinking at Shiro in a daze.

Shiro’s thumb dragged across Lance’s bottom lip and he shivered, reeling from just that simple touch, “someone’s trying to reach me… hang on… might be important..”

“Oh… okay…” He snuggled into Shiro’s chest, leaning against the metal of his emitter casing with a contented sigh.

“It’s Hunk… he brought cookies to your room to cheer you up and the nurses said you were with me. Should I tell him to just leave them?”

“Mmm… as much as I love the idea of staying here and making out with you like a couple of teenagers for… ummm… yeah… pretty much _all_ of the foreseeable future… I owe Hunk an apology… and I know he’s worried about me… so…”

Shiro smiled at him and dropped a little kiss to his nose, “I’ll tell him to hang tight, we’re on our way?”

“Perfect…” While Shiro typed, Lance soaked up the last few minutes of being alone with him like this, committing every tiny detail to memory.

“Lance?”

“Mmhmm?”

“It’s going to be very difficult to go anywhere with you sitting in my lap, sweetie…”

He pouted, “it’s going to be very difficult to find the motivation to leave your lap if you keep it up with the pet names…”

Smirking, Shiro chuckled, “really? Well, I’m just going to have to stow that information away for later, aren’t I?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, leaning up to press a quick little kiss to the corner of his lips, “you should, darling.”

God, Shiro’s blushes were so damn _precious_! Looked like he wasn’t the only one with a soft spot for endearments.

“Okay… up… before we get sidetracked…”

“Awww… Shiro? Do you find me distracting, baby?” His ears were red again! Oh, this was _fun_!

“I could message Hunk to just leave the cookies because we’re going to… how did you put it? ‘Make-out like a couple of teenagers’ in the Observatory…” Shiro said, “I’m completely fine with that.”

“Really?” Shiro nodded. “Well, now I’m kind of curious how Hunk would react. Do you think he’d believe you?”

“I don’t know. You two have always been close… did you ever tell him?”

“Tell him what? The whole ‘swept me off my feet’ thing? No. I never told anyone. Roni figured it out, though. You?”

Shiro shook his head, “not really the kind of conversation I have with Hunk. Keith knows- when you got hurt…. He called me out on how I was reacting.”

“Oh… Oh my God, he wasn’t talking about Adam! That little shit!”

“What?!?!”

“Mmm… something Keith said… I thought he was talking about- it’s not important, I jumped to the wrong conclusion.”

“What did he say?” Shiro’s expression turned evil and he grinned, “what did Keith say, sweetheart?”

“Oh!” He thumped his hand into Shiro’s shoulder, indignant. “ _Unfair_ usage of pet names! Flag on the play! Not cool.”

Laughing, Shiro pulled him into his arms and kissed him soundly. “You’re right,” he purred, “that was unfair. I’ll ask Keith.”

“That’s better.” Grumbling, he managed to climb out of Shiro’s lap and then up onto his feet with minimal help. The trip back to his room took a little longer than expected because he was more tired than he’d thought (and there were _a few_ more kisses in the corridors).

Eventually, they got back to the medward and checked in with the nurses. Ezri was getting ready to head back to her own quarters but stopped dead in her tracks, grinning maniacally. “Welcome back, Ambassador McClain. Did you enjoy getting out of here for a bit?”

“I did, thanks,” he answered brightly. “I’m sorry I was a pain in the ass today.”

“Don’t worry about it. You had a bad day, it happens. I’m glad you are doing better. How are you this evening Captain?”

“I’m great, thanks for asking,” Shiro replied, polite as ever.

“Mmhmmm… good.. Good to know,” she smiled, but Lance could _see_ her biting her cheek and she genuinely looked like she might burst.

“Nice hair,” she said, like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. She stepped out from behind the desk, slinging her bag over her shoulder before she reached out to smooth over the very crumpled shoulder of Shiro’s uniform jacket.

Oh.

Oh no.

His hand flew up to finger comb his hair and he turned to look at Shiro. Sure enough, the hallway shenanigans had left his gorgeous white hair a complete mess, sticking out at odd angles and completely out of character for him.

Busted.

Shiro seemed to realize it at the exact moment Lance did, his cheeks flushing crimson.

“I need to be on my way. Have a nice evening Ambassador. Captain.” Giving them a cheery little finger wave, she brushed past them and out of the ward.

“She’s going to be impossible now,” muttered Lance, reaching up to fix a cow’s lick Shiro had missed.

“All fixed?” Shiro asked after a moment and when Lance nodded, he went right back to holding his hand and helping him stay steady as he maneuvered the artificial leg and the cane. “I swear I will never understand your whole thing with that nurse. You insist she’s scary, but you flirt with her, and it is obvious she’s your favorite. She keeps chocolate milk at the nurses station for you, Lance! You can see how this might be confusing from an outside perspective, right?”

“Okay,” he laughed, “let me try to explain. I do like Ezri, she can be really sweet. But she’s got a nasty temper and stubborn streak, so I try to stay on her good side. So… kind of a mixed bag. She’s the closest thing I’ve got to a friend in the medical staff, though.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Also… her whole thing about not believing me about you was irritating.” Shiro grinned, holding the door open for him. “Listen, just because most people don’t have friends that watch out for them like that doesn’t mean it isn’t something that friends _do_! I keep trying to tell people that Voltron… that’s a stronger bond than regular friends!”

“Yeah, man, people _really_ don’t get that,” Hunk boomed, scaring Lance so much that he lost his balance and toppled into Shiro.

God damn it.

He’d gotten distracted and forgotten that Hunk was waiting for them for like _ten seconds_ and it bit him in the ass.

“Sorry! Sorry,” he fussed, rushing over to help get Lance back on his feet. “The only people who _kinda_ seem to get it are James and the other MFEs… and honestly I think that’s more that they are just used to us talking about it than they really understand it.”

“Yeah. It’s annoying. Like, if we are _all_ saying it, then maybe just believe us? God.”

“Your doctor was _so_ surprised that we all showed up, man. She couldn’t believe that we’d taken leave, or rearranged out schedules. But, as soon as Shiro said that it would actually be _helpful_ to have us all underfoot, we came back.”

He snuck a peek at Shiro who, as he expected, was blushing. How he managed to make blushes so appealing, Lance would never know, but just seeing it made him smile so big that his nose scrunched up. “I still can’t really believe it,” he said, belatedly replying to Hunk, who shot him an odd look, “it had to be a nightmare trying to arrange leave on no notice like that.”

“Not really,” Hunk answered with a shrug, “Shiro called in a bunch of favors and then yelled at the people who _didn’t_ owe him favors… I heard a rumor about agreeing to do some kind of recruiting video for Galaxy Garrison… or was it a fundraising thing?”

Shiro turned beet red and cleared his throat, “it’s a promotional campaign. Not a big deal.”

Stunned, Lance let that sink in. That was a lot more than just-

“It was just a few phone calls. Really,” Shiro insisted.

“No, it’s not. You _hate_ getting roped into doing PR shit.”

“He does?” Hunk turned to face Shiro, “you do? Since when? You were fine with the Voltron Show…”

“That’s Voltron,” Lance replied, still watching Shiro, “not the Garrison.”

“It’s just a few pictures, Lance. I don’t mind-”

“Don’t do that. You keep doing that. Don’t… act like the stuff you’ve done for me since I got hurt is nothing. It’s not nothing. You… really agreed to be in a promotional campaign?”

“Uh… yeah… getting them to delay the Bahamut’s mission was a bit of a hard sell.” Shifting awkwardly, he rubbed at the back of his neck- a sure sign that he didn’t want Lance to ‘make a fuss’ even though he knew how much it got to him when the Garrison ‘paraded him around’. “So, once we are back on Earth there’s a photoshoot and a couple of videos. For the enrollment teams… not recruitment.” It was a small distinction, but one that Lance knew made a difference to Shiro. The _education program_ , Shiro believed in… the tactics the Galaxy Garrison had employed after the occupation to recruit people directly into service, he hated. It wasn’t something he talked about much- considering that he was the Captain of the flagship and Shiro took his professional responsibilities very seriously, but Lance had heard him vent his frustration and disappointment more than once over the years. It had been safe to vent to Lance, because Lance had left all that and so Shiro didn’t have to worry about putting him in an awkward position.

“A whole new generation of future Cadets with Takashi Shirogane posters on their wall,” chuckled Hunk. “Man, I wonder if Mom still has my old one in storage. Are they putting them in the ‘Thanks for your application’ package again?”

“Ummm… They didn’t say…”

Okay, Shiro seriously looked like he was going to keel over if this conversation continued much longer. Time for Lance to intervene. He could thank Shiro later. “So… I heard a rumor that there are cookies?”

“Holy Crow! Yes! I made cookies,” Hunk shook his head at himself. “I can’t believe I got so distracted. I brought you a whole container… annnnnd… because I’m a genius, I also brought a smaller, decoy container for Ezor to find.”

“That is brilliant,” he gushed. Shiro gave his hand a little squeeze and as he helped Lance get comfortable on the bed, he mouthed a little thank-you that was so cute, Lance could feel his own cheeks grow warm with a flush. He wasn’t exactly _sure_ where they stood at the moment… like… in terms of the particulars of labels and telling people and stuff… but his shitty day had been completely redeemed long before cookies were part of it. “She always swipes my best snacks!”

“Mmmhmmm… so decoy snickerdoodles,” Hunk assured him, setting both containers on the tray table.

“Snickerdoodles!?!? Shiro! Hunk made me snickerdoodles!”

“The point was to cheer you up, buddy- of course I made snickerdoodles! What did you think I’d make for you?? Oatmeal raisin?!?”

“ _Oatmeal raisin_?!?!” Hunk opened one of the containers and the smell of cinnamon made Lance sigh happily. “Gross! It’s like… if betrayal was a cookie!”

“Hey!” Shiro squawked, “I like oatmeal raisin! They aren’t too sweet.”

Hunk shot Shiro a look that Lance had only ever seen on his face when someone put ketchup on Prime Rib. “Alright. It’s official. Shiro. I’m sorry, but you have terrible taste.”

Lance choked on his cookie.


	7. Real Subtle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans for a new normal are put into place. Old mysteries are explained and recent secrets are revealed.

They’d eventually gotten around to talking about the nitty gritty of how they wanted to address the change in their relationship. Privacy was in short supply for people of their ranks to begin with, and with Lance in the medward (still) it was practically non-existent. So, ultimately, they’d decided not to say anything to anyone until Lance got the okay to go home to his own quarters… with one exception. Shiro had joined him for his vid-call to his Grandda and Lance had introduced him as his boyfriend, which made Shiro blush and filled Lance with happy pride. As predicted, he’d made a fuss over ‘his Fergie, the hero’ and made his nurse bring him around to show Lance off to the friends he’d made.

Other than that one exception, they wanted the chance to enjoy each other without all the pressure that came along with their particular group of friends rooting for them. They wanted to avoid creating an upheaval when Lance’s doctors were insisting that he needed to be relying on a routine at the moment.

That push for more predictability, combined with his ongoing issue with nerve pain worked in their favor. While they’d been trying to figure out a way to discreetly discourage Veronica from continuing to stay with Lance every second night, Ezri had just _casually_ commented that having someone who could relate to the emotional fallout of losing a limb was helpful. In fact, she observed, it seemed to her that Lance did much better when Shiro was close by than pretty much anyone else.

Veronica had turned to him and he’d been so afraid that she’d be hurt, or slighted by Ezri’s comments, but instead, she looked so hopeful it warmed his heart. They bickered and butted heads, but ultimately, his sister just wanted him to not be in pain anymore. As far as Veronica was concerned, if that meant letting Shiro take over the ‘nightshift’ and Shiro wasn’t suffering for it, then she was all for that plan.

He’d really lucked out in the sister department… and when they got back to Earth, he was going to spoil her rotten.

Pidge had tweaked the programming of the cyber-leg and Lance was finding it easier to maneuver it with the new biofeedback settings. He still didn’t have the level of sensation and control that they had hoped he would, and his ‘blended quintessence’ was still causing issues for the interface that would, in theory, make his metal leg feel like it was genuinely part of him. That was okay. Even if that never happened, he could live with that. All things considered, it really felt like he’d rounded a corner in his recovery. They’d even been able to find a solution that allowed him to do PT in the pool. It was still _unpleasant_ but wearing a warm water wetsuit kept him from feeling like his skin was crawling. So, he was actually making progress on his gait.

Ensign Kym, of all people, had found a way for him to feel productive professionally, as well. With Coran handling the majority of the heavy lifting for the Ambassador’s desk, Kym had suggested that Lance go back to the thing that had first inspired the job offer. So, every afternoon, he got himself cleaned up and into his uniform and sat on vid-calls to school children all over the sector, talking about Allura and her legacy.

It was good.

Really good.

He’d forgotten how much he loved doing that. Kids were always a hoot, their curiosity and enthusiasm never failing to lead to a comment or question that made him laugh and flustered whatever teacher was supervising the ‘Talk and Q&A with Paladin Lance’. It was great… but…

Somewhere along the way, the way he thought of and talked about Allura had changed. Enough time had passed that he was starting to absorb the ‘myth’ of her, a public image overwriting the person he’d known and loved. That had been hard to accept, but he’d realized that it was a pretty easy fix: talk about her more, share memories that contradicted her legend and reminded everyone (not just him) that she was complicated and real.

Talking to the children was healing something he hadn’t realized had gotten bruised and battered over the years by his efforts to avoid the pain of her loss by avoiding talking about her or thinking of her as much as he could. Now he dove into those stories and memories and that little hollow place in his mind that lingered even when surrounded by the other surviving paladins seemed a little less hollow, a little smaller.

Krolia had started dropping by for short visits in the evening when Shiro’s commitments ran late and it was honestly funny to see how she could so effortlessly unnerve Dr. Bashir, who had so easily held her own against both Shiro and Veronica. He suspected it was the eerie _stillness_ that was so natural for Krolia. He didn’t even think Krolia was trying to be intimidating. It really seemed like she was just trying to be unobtrusive, which just made the whole thing funnier to him.

Twice-weekly poker nights resumed again after something of a lull while all the new arrivals had gotten settled in and with Coran on board, there were rumblings of starting up a new Monsters and Mana campaign and he’d started a long, convoluted text chain with Romelle as she tried to learn the game and kept creating and discarding characters as she read up on the different classes and races.

He was still reliant on the cane, but Keith had started sending Kosmo to him every morning to join him for the short walk around the medward that Polaski had decided could serve as a warm-up for PT. Someone must have said something (he suspected it was Krolia) because after the second day, he’d been cleared to walk with only Kosmo for company. Given that a good chunk of the medical staff had seen just how protective and intelligent Kosmo was when he’d teleported Lance to them after the accident, he doubted it had been that hard to convince them that he could raise the alarm if Lance fell or got hit with nerve pain. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the family pets and the livestock he helped care for on the farm until he got regular Kosmo time. He appreciated that almost as much as he appreciated the freedom from the watchful gaze of the nurses.

But, by far, the highlight of every day seemed to be the same thing: the time he got to spend alone with Shiro after visiting hours ended and before ‘lights out’.

“You look pensive,” Shiro observed mildly, adjusting the angle of the viewing screen slightly before crawling into the bed beside him. He’d already changed into the tank and loose fitting cotton pants he slept in and his battered old Black Lion slippers made soft slapping noises as they slipped off his feet and hit the floor.

“Just thinking,” he answered with a smile, “c’mere.“ Shiro had had a draining day dealing with the top brass of the Coalition and his fatigue was evident in every line of his body. So, once he started the movie, instead of tucking himself under Shiro’s arm, he pulled Shiro into his arms, his head pillowed on Lance’s chest. ”Better, baby?”

Shiro’s answer was a soft, contented hum and Lance felt him practically _melt_ into his embrace. He smiled, dropping a little kiss to the top of his head, hair tickling his nose and smelling slightly of shampoo and coffee.

Shiro shifted and snuggled closer until he was practically lying on top of Lance. Idly, Lance played with the close-clippered hair at the base of his skull, enjoying the way it could be prickly or velvet-soft depending on the touch. More soft, sleepy sounds escaped Shiro, and Lance’s heart felt like it might actually burst from the fond joy. “I’ll take that as a yes, then,” he chuckled.

“Long day,” he mumbled, drowsiness already slurring his words. No way was he staying awake to the end of the movie… or moving back to the cot before he conked out. “Been waiting to do this for hours…”

“Awwww… you should have let me know. I could have kicked James and Keith out. Would have been kind of fun, actually.”

“Nah… s’fine. Just enjoying it even more now.” He lifted his head, chin settling on Lance’s pec once he’d turned to face him. “You spending time with the others is important. I’m not going to get in the way of that. It’s not like they were here until two am or anything.”

“Mmmm… me and my ten pm curfew like some kind of cadet- and don’t say it, because I know sleep is an important part of my healing. I’m… just looking forward to being able to set my own bedtime again. Like a real grown-up.”

“I know you are impatient to get out of here, sweetheart. I’m sorry if I’m a bit… intense about prioritizing your recovery.”

“Oh mi cielito, it’s okay,” he scrunched down so he could kiss Shiro’s forehead, “I figured that out ages ago. I understand… wasn’t a complaint about you- just letting you know I’ve _been listening_ all those times you’ve said that.”

“You figured _what_ out?”

“That you are making sure I get all the things you had to do without when you lost your arm. Time, support, loved ones… rest…” Unable to resist the impulse to comfort Shiro, even years after his time in captivity with the Galra, Lance cupped his face, thumb brushing lightly along his cheekbone. “Compassion.”

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t really have to. Lance knew him well enough to read his eyes- all the things he left unspoken were spelled out so clearly in his gaze. After a quiet moment, he shifted, propping himself up so he could kiss Lance. That was filled with all the things Shiro struggled to put into words, too. He wasn’t always, of course, people were more complex than that, but God, Shiro could be _so gentle_ when he let his guard down- he hadn’t sought out being a soldier, a warrior. He’d just wanted to fly. To see the stars. Earth had been at peace when young Takashi Shirogane was setting record after record. Humanity thought they were alone in the universe.

The Kerberos mission had changed so much for him- the Galra had _literally rewritten his dna_ for fuck’s sake- and he’d risen to every awful challenge his life had presented him with since then… but at his core, Shiro was a gentle soul. Just... a gentle soul with the courage and strength and nobility to fight when his hand was forced if it meant protecting himself or someone else.

Most people seemed to forget or overlook that, but Lance didn’t. He saw it. He appreciated it… and because of that, Shiro let himself tap into it around him. So, the kiss was gentle, even as it heated up. Movie all but forgotten, they curled together, losing themselves in each other. Lance was beyond grateful that he was no longer hooked up to an array of monitors, because every soft brush of Shiro’s hands over his skin felt like it left prairiefire in its wake, and touching _him_ felt like trying to pull lightning out of the sky.

When there was a soft rap on the door, the two of them leapt apart like a couple of teenagers and Shiro immediately busied himself with fixing the mangled bedding, turning away from the door to hide his kiss-swollen lips and blush. Lance focused on fixing his hair, and steadying his breathing.

They were _real_ subtle.

Fuck it, based on comments from Ezri, half the nurses probably thought they’d been together since before the accident, anyway.

“Didn’t mean to frighten you. Sorry,” Kzinti, his overnight nurse, said softly. “It’s just, you are due for your medication.” He rattled a little paper cup at Lance, “it’s midnight.”

“Really?” Shiro asked, cheeks going crimson. “Doesn’t seem that late…”

“Time flies?” Somehow, Lance resisted the urge to coo at him, but he couldn’t resist the impulse to tease him _a little_. Shiro being flustered and ‘new relationship-y’ was entirely too endearing. It was such a rush that _Shiro_ , of all people, got so… discombobulated over _Lance_. When it was just the two of them, it felt like the most obvious and natural thing in the world, being together. It was clear that Shiro felt the same ease and comfort with Lance that Lance felt with him. There was no agonized second-guessing of how close was too close, how cuddly was too cuddly, how much to reveal to be open and vulnerable without oversharing or clinging. No worries about going too fast or too slow. It was just them, as relaxed and secure in each other’s company as they’d ever been. Add the presence of someone else and all that changed, though.

Suddenly, they turned awkward and giddy, like a couple of kids dealing with first crushes. Generally, it wasn’t too terrible around their friends, who were used to Lance’s tendency to be physically affectionate and playfully flirty with pretty much everyone, and who knew that Shiro could sometimes go quiet and retreat into his own thoughts- simply enjoying the bustle of people around him.

It happened to some degree when they had to interact with anyone outside of their close knit circle, but the nurses were, by far, the worst. Lance suspected it was because there was a certain intimacy to being alone with each other in the wee hours, even if nothing particularly steamy was going on. Whatever it was, Shiro got all flustered and Lance turned giggly and prone to teasing.

They’d earned more than a few eyerolls lately.

“That’s to help prevent the nerve pain, right?” Shiro asked, finally having gotten his blush under control.

“There’s one to try to speed up the process of making the new nerve connections,” Kzinti answered, “which might make the pains more frequent but hopefully will shorten the time before they stop happening altogether. A new drug from Olkarion. The other is a non-narcotic analgesic, which we are using to try to keep the pain from being as bad when it does happen.”

“Like taking painkillers before going to the dentist,” Lance said, his voice light as he accepted the little paper cup full of pills and a slightly larger one with water for him to take them with. Shiro stressed less when he had as much information about Lance’s medical care as possible. It made the entire situation seem less random and uncontrollable to him.

Shiro nodded, a short, determined single jolt of his head that belied his worry, but he mustered up a smile, which told Lance he was focusing on the hope and not the concern. “Fingers crossed that they work!”

“Your lips to God’s ears,” he replied, tossing all four of the pills back in one shot and washing them down with the water. “Thanks, Kzinti.”

“You’re welcome. Hopefully you’ll have a nice quiet night, but you know how to reach me if you don’t.” He nodded as he collected the empty cups, “sleep well Ambassador. Captain.”

“Thanks, I’ll try not to be too much work tonight!” Lance answered at the exact moment that Shiro promised to buzz if they needed a nurse. Kzinti laughed good naturedly, his tail triggering the lights to dim back down as he left.

“I’m fine,” Lance said, pre-empting Shiro’s concerned questions, “I promise. No pain.”

“None?” He tucked his face against the curve Lance’s neck, nuzzling close enough that his breath danced softly over the sensitive skin of his throat. They settled back into the bed together, metal fingers entwining with Lance’s and metal leg tucking between Shiro’s. He was still a bit nervous about accidentally kicking Shiro during the night- he knew from experience that getting nailed with the heel of his cyber-leg was decidedly unpleasant- but Shiro insisted that he was fine with the risk it posed, so he was starting to relax about it more.

“None… in fact… I was feeling pretty damn good before he showed up…”

He felt the snort more than he heard it, and he could tell that Shiro was grinning and blushing again just by the way his face moved against Lance’s skin.

“Have you thought anymore about what Bashir said yesterday?”

“You mean about making a transitional plan for when I get to go home? Mmmm... a little. I’m thinking Pidge, maybe? I know bunking with her parents is driving her nuts. She’d probably appreciate the break.”

“Pidge is a good option. Romelle cooks, though.”

“Oooh- that is a very good point! I hadn’t considered the possibility of blomfruit pie! I love blomfruit pie.”

“It is tasty…” Shiro trailed off, going quiet.

It only took a few heartbeats for Lance to pick up on the fact that this wasn’t their typical sleepy, comfortable quiet. There was something unspoken weighing down the moment. He was trying to figure out the best way to ask about it when Shiro cleared his throat, “is it more that you want to go back to your own quarters, or that you just want to get the hell out of the medward?”

“Kind of a mix, I guess? Like, if I can’t figure out a solution that works so that I’m in my own space and I have someone staying with me like the doc wants I _could_ crash with Hunk and Shay, or Roni and Acxa and I’d be fine with that… but it’d probably feel a little crowded to me, you know?”

“Well, in that case… if you aren’t dead set on being back in your own space… umm… you could… come stay with me. I’m technically supposed to always sleep in the Captain’s quarters, so I can’t offer to officially stay with you. This,” his floating hand lifted, fingers gesturing to the way they were curled up together, “is a bit of a loophole.”

“You don’t think that’s… a big jump?”

“My offer stands, Lance. I wouldn’t have made it if I didn’t mean it… but if it is too much for you, I’m not going to be hurt or insulted.”

“I’d need someone to hang out with me when you were at work,” he mused, trying to approach this like a grown-up and not a lovestruck kid… even though the invitation made him want to squeal or something. “But… that might not be a bad thing… I’m… a lot. I know that. Splitting the ‘supervise Lance’ job between two people might actually prevent further injury- Pidge throws shit when she’s annoyed, and Romelle… did you _see_ what she did to that chiller that kept making the weird beeping noise? I’m probably more annoying than random beeps.”

“You aren’t annoying, Lance.”

“I can definitely be annoying.”

“I know that tone- the more I insist that you aren’t annoying the more you are going to go out of your way to prove me wrong. So… different approach. You don’t annoy me… and the people that love you, love you for _all_ of who you are.” Shiro lifted his head to press a kiss to his temple, “we almost lost you. Trust me, that’s fresh enough in everyone’s minds that it is still prime Lance appreciation hours on the Atlas.”

“Lance appreci- God, you are adorable,” he turned to face him, “I have a very adorable boyfriend.”

“Mmmm… so do I. A very adorable and _not annoying_ boyfriend.”

Giggling, he bumped their noses together. “I’m your favorite,” he whispered, teasing, “don’t worry… I won’t tell the others. It’s enough that you and I know it.”

“My favorite what? McClain?”

“Just your favorite. Blanket statement.”

“You seem really invested in being people’s favorite, sweetheart.”

“Nah… just the important people… like you…”

“Ahh okay,” Shiro smirked at him, “then you are definitely my favorite boyfriend.”

“I’m your only boyfriend. Not a lot of competition in that category, gorgeous,” he laughed, enjoying Shiro’s playful mood.

Shiro's answering laugh was like a bursting bubble of pure delight. Lance had rarely seen him look so at ease and happy. "God, I love you," Shiro giggled, and froze. His eyes went wide and his whole face went red, the laughter dying on his lips. "I mean... ummm... shit... didn't mean to say that yet..."

“You… love me?” Lance asked, feeling faint. “Like… how I tell Hunk I love him all the time when he does… you know… _Hunk stuff_? Or like… you _love_ me love me? Because… just… I don’t want to misinterpret…”

They both went quiet, each of them studying the other’s face for a tense moment. “Not… um… not like Hunk,” Shiro whispered, his expression somewhere between sheepish and hopeful. “I love you, Lance. I have for… awhile. I’m in love with you… and I know it’s way too soon to-”

“I’m in love with you, too,” he interrupted, “I’ve been biting my tongue not to say it…”

“Yeah?”

“Mmmhmm… didn’t want to spook you… cuz… like I said, I’m kind of a lot.”

“You’re not,” Shiro insisted, “you are… passionate and intense and you enjoy attention, but you are no more work or effort than anyone else. Quiet and subdued doesn’t make someone easier to love. There’s a lot to be said for people who aren’t afraid to express what they are feeling. I hate that you think that being expressive is a flaw.”

He scrunched his nose, “that’s very sweet, bu-”

“Nope! No ‘buts’! No arguing me on this one. I’m the one that actually interacts with you remember? If I say I enjoy your company, and I love how you express yourself, and I admire that you are outgoing and fun-loving and playful and kind-hearted and all the other things that you lump together and call ‘a lot’ or ‘too much’ then that is how I feel. I’m not lying to you, Lance. I’ve known you really well for a long time… and I love you. _You._ Exactly as you are. Got it?”

“Aye, aye Captain,” he answered, his voice teasing despite the stinging in his eyes that warned of impending tears if he didn’t find a way to shift this conversation away from Shiro saying stuff like _that_. “You know me better than almost anyone, you know.”

“Same goes for you,” Shiro replied, “not many people out there who have ever known me as well as you do. We’ve been through a lot together.”

“We really have, huh?”

“Yeah, we really have. It’s been a long, complicated road to get from that handshake in the desert to here.” Shiro had started playing with his hair again, soft and familiar and he tipped his head so he could kiss him.

“You’re worth the wait,” Lance whispered against his lips. “I’m not gonna weigh in on all the… other heavy stuff. I’m just gonna focus on how glad I am that we have _this_ , now.”

“That’s probably the smartest approach,” he replied, “we’ve both been through some awful shit… but, yeah… I’m glad we have this now, too.” He cuddled close for a moment and then sighed, “we should probably get some sleep, huh?”

“Mmm… yeah… probably.” Lance adjusted the blankets again while Shiro used his floating arm to shut off the datapad that had just moved on to the next file when the movie they had forgotten about ended, now showing that God awful boring drama Shiro loved.

It didn’t take long for them to get situated, pillows plumped and turned to the cooler sides, tangled together, held close with the blankets snuggled up nice and warm. Lance was smiling as he relaxed against Shiro, sleepiness settling over him. “Sweet dreams mi cielito,” he whispered, “love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” Shiro answered after a moment, and Lance could hear the smile in his voice.

* * *

“Alright guys! It’s almost time for Paladin Lance to say goodbye! _One_ more question and then we say thank-you!” Even with four arms to wrangle them with, the Unilu teacher seemed a little overwhelmed by his boisterous students and Lance fought the urge to chuckle. There were about two dozen of the little ones, and he wasn’t sure how old they actually were, but they seemed to be roughly equivalent to human seven year olds, based on his experience with cousins and niblings. At least six kids were tapping on their desks, indicating that they had a question.

The teacher chose a quiet child near the back of the class, one that shuffled awkwardly and stumbled over their question. It took three false starts and one big, bracing breath before they managed to spit it out. “My question isn’t about Princess Allura, is that okay?”

“As long as it is about Voltron, or the Coalition, that’s totally fine,” he answered warmly, smiling at them in encouragement.

“Um… okay!” They brightened up and grabbed a datapad holding it up so he could see it. It showcased a rather clumsy but recognizable drawing of the Lions. “I drawed this!”

“It’s very good! I can see all five of the Lions! That took a lot of work.”

“Yeah! They’s hard to draw! Okay! Umm… You flied two Lions, which one was better?”

”Wow- that’s a hard question! The Paladins have a special bond with their Lion… like… a family. In my family I have two brothers and they are different from each other, but I love them both just as much. It’s the same with my Lions. Blue was my first Lion and she’s brave and kind, she loves the water- just like me- and she was the one who brought us all to the Castle of Lions. Red, he was Keith’s Lion first, and when he became our Leader, Red wanted me to be his Paladin. He knew that I understood how important it was to help everyone learn how to work together with a new leader, and to help Princess Allura learn how to be a Paladin. Red was really, really fast and I liked that, too. I don’t think either one of them was better, they were just different from each other- just like my brothers are both great, but different from each other. They were both great Lions and I miss them. I’m sorry I can’t really pick one over the other for you.”

“That’s okay! Can I ask something else?”

“If it is really quick you can, since I couldn’t really answer your first question.”

“Okay! It’s fast- like the Red Lion! Do the Lions have baffrooms?”

He laughed, along with the entire class. It never failed, somehow one of the kids would always throw him for a loop, and from the looks of it, potty humor was a hit with alien kids, too. “They…” He shook his head, he couldn’t believe that he was about to answer that. “They did _not_ have bathrooms. Our Paladin suits could work like bathrooms if we needed them to, but mostly, we used the bathrooms on the Castle of Lions, or whatever planet we were on. I think King Alfor forgot that bathrooms would be a good idea. He could have used someone like you to remind him!”

The kids erupted in a harmonized chorus- half giggling, and half making grossed out noises. The little one who’d asked the question beamed, clearly thrilled at the idea that they might have been able to improve on the Lions if they’d been around during the creation.

He was waiting for the teacher to get them reined in when there was a short burst of three quick raps on his door and it slid open. Simultaneously, the air crackled and all the kids gasped in surprise as Kosmo blinked in beside him. He laughed as Kosmo licked at his face, waving James over from the doorway. “I still have to say goodbye in a few ticks, but it looks like you guys get a special treat! This is my friend Kosmo! He usually tags along with the Black Paladin, but we’ve been friends for a long time, too. He’s really brave and smart and he’s kept me safe a bunch of times. Say hi everyone!”

James stepped into the frame while the kids enthusiastically greeted the space wolf. Kosmo leaned in to sniff at the display and camera, prompting a few excited squeals. Lance couldn’t blame the kids, he’d have been excited by a teleporting space wolf at that age, too. Kosmo seemed to decide that the tech was less interesting than the potential for Lance having bacon nearby and shifted his attention. He rested his massive head in Lance’s lap and looked up at him pleadingly.

“And this,” Lance continued, petting Kosmo, the dark fur thick and satiny under his hand, “is Commander James Griffin, he is the leader of the MFEs. Commander Griffin, say hi to the class. We’ve been talking about Princess Allura’s legacy.”

James crouched down a little and leaned in closer, a bright smile on his face as he waved to the kids, “hello everyone! Are you having fun learning from Ambassador McClain?”

“Paladin Lance,” he corrected.

“Really?” James blinked at him, his expression puzzled, but he rolled with it. “Alright… are you having fun learning from Paladin Lance?”

The kids all talked over one another saying hello and answering James’ question.

“Are you Paladin Lance’s _boyfriend_?” one of the children called out, sending all the others into squeals and giggles.

Lance snorted, shaking his head, but James seemed shocked to the point that Lance wondered if he should be offended.

“No! Paladin Lance is not my boyfriend. We’ve just known each other for a very long time. We were classmates, just like you guys are.”

“Commander Griffin is just visiting me because that’s what you do when one of your friends is stuck in a medward,” Lance explained with an exaggerated sigh.

“Especially when that friend got hurt keeping my boyfriend safe,” James added, which surprised Lance, because James was almost as private about his personal life as Keith was. Less surprising was the barrage of questions about who Griffin’s boyfriend actually was.

“I bet you can guess,” he coaxed playfully, “I can give you a hint- James is taking care of his boyfriend’s space wolf right now.”

“It’s the Black Paladin!” one of the kids shrieked, reaching a pitch high enough to make the teacher flinch. “Kosmo belongs to the Black Paladin!”

“Yup,” laughed James, “Keith is my boyfriend. Good job!”

That poor teacher had all but given up on trying to rein in the excited children, and they’d gone a little over the allotted time, so Lance decided to wrap things up before the kids did what kids did best and run wild with the conversation. He clapped his hands together, leaning closer to the camera, “I really had a great time talking with all of you today! I know your teacher has some questions for you guys to answer before it is time for you to go home, so I need to say goodbye now. If any of you have any more art or stories about Princess Allura or Voltron, I would love to see it, so I gave your teacher a form to use. Anything you send me will get added to the Royal Historical Collection in the Archives on New Altea! Super exciting, right?”

The gasps and little awed noises were adorable, and seeing a couple of the kids immediately grab their pads to start creating made his heart warm and his marks glow. The teacher tapped on one of the desks, bringing the focus back to him. “This has been very informative, and I think we all had fun. It was really nice of Paladin Lance to take the time to talk to us today, so what do we say to him?”

“Thank-you Paladin Lance!” they sing-songed.

“You are very welcome,” he replied, “thank-you for letting me steal you away from your lessons for a bit! Say goodbye, Commander Griffin.”

“Good-bye kids,” James replied, “maybe someday some of you will be pilots in my squads of MFEs and we’ll see each other again!”

Lance could literally watch the career dreams of several of the children take an abrupt turn at James’ comment. Whether the call had started with any aspiring pilots in their midst or not, there certainly were a few there now. The children were still waving excitedly and calling out farewells when the teacher disconnected the vid-link and Lance’s screen went blank. He stretched his leg out, trying to shake the sensation of a cramp in his right foot- which was impossible, because cybernetic limbs didn’t have muscles to cramp in the first place.

“What?” James asked when he saw Lance’s face.

“Nothing,” he chuckled, “I just didn’t know that you liked kids.”

“Of course I like kids,” James blustered, “who doesn’t like kids?!?! Kids are great.”

“Lots of people don’t like kids, James… but, for the record, I agree with you- kids are great.”

“Once things are… less crazy… I want to have a few kids. Not until things calm down though.”

“Things are calmer now than they were a few years ago,” he pointed out.

“Yeah… for the Coalition…”

“Oh, I get it,” he grinned, “you mean when Keith’s life isn’t as nuts. Not… just… you know... the general state of the Universe.”

“Annnnd I’m done talking about this!” Something about his tone made Kosmo lift his head on a little huff and rub against James’ leg.

“Okay, I won’t push. Just… for the record? I think that’s a great plan. I’ve seen Keith with kids, remember? When the time is right, you guys will do great.”

If he hadn’t known the guy for so long or been playing poker with him a couple of days a week, Lance probably would have missed the tight little smile and tiny little nod of his head. But, he’d known James since his first day as a cadet, and they did play poker together regularly, so he saw it. He saw it and he knew James appreciated the vote of confidence- he was just… almost as cagey about personal details as Keith was, and unlike Lance and Keith, he and James didn’t really have the kind of friendship where James talked about his ‘hopes and dreams’ and shit.

They were friends, but the flipside of Lance’s well-established loyalty to Keith was that James confided in people who were just as ride or die for him as Lance was for the other Paladins. It was cool. He understood. “So, Griffin? What prompted this visit? Aren’t you supposed to be in meetings all day?”

“I was,” he answered, “and then there was one that was above my paygrade. Shiro sent me.”

“Oh?” He went still. In all likelihood, James had just been sent to tell Lance that Shiro would be delayed, but there was something about his tone of voice...

“There’s new information about the incident at Hyndrox Prima,” James said quietly, “they think they know why our intel was so bad.”

“I… never knew the name of the settlement,” he said, trying to hold himself together. Most of the time, he was fine to talk about what happened, but… sometimes…

“Looks like our lines of communication were compromised and we were being fed false info,” James continued, “and we know that the settlement was targeted to send us a message, not because of anything specific to that settlement. It was just that it was the one at the furthest reach of the Atlas’ flight path.”

“A show of force,” Lance breathed, “against civilians. Just to show the universe that they aren’t afraid of the Atlas, the Coalition. Shit.”

“Yeah… it’s bad. That was all I got before I was shooed out of there… and I’m pretty sure I only heard that much because Shiro wanted me to.”

He nodded, “oh yeah, for sure. Well… wow… that explains a lot…”

“If you hadn’t been there, it probably would have been a massacre, Lance.”

All he could think of was the number of vehicles that had been bearing down on a small cluster of buildings that housed and employed innocent people. Families. Just trying to start a new life. “Yeah… they… uh… there was no way they were equipped for that level of… Fuck. That would have been…”

“Hey…” Kosmo whined, bumping his head against Lance’s knee insistently and James crouched in front of him. “It would have… but, Lance _it wasn’t_. You were there. Keith was there. Acxa, Ezor, and Zethrid were there. You guys prevented a tragedy. You kept them safe.”

“Yeah,” his hands moved to pet Kosmo automatically and he fought his way back from memories he didn’t want to relive. “We were there… James? Things are going to get bad before they get better. You don’t thumb your nose at the Coalition unless you’ve got the manpower and the arsenal to back it up.”

“I know. Keith is pretty sure this is going to end up being a Marmora operation. They are good at getting their hands on information and if these assholes are using old Empire tech…”

“There’s no one with more experience taking out Empire tech than the Blade of Marmora,” he finished for him. “The Blade will rip them apart from the inside.”

“No matter what it takes… so… try not to get too worked up, alright? It’s in good hands.”

“I’m okay. Really.” He was, he was just also trying to extrapolate what the quiznak those assholes were planning next from the very tiny amount of information he had about them. It had been _months_ with no other attacks from them. Were they just biding their time? Planning something big? Or had they overcommitted to the attack on Hyndrox Prima, taken more losses than they could afford? He had no doubts that he’d be brainstorming the whole issue from every angle once he and Shiro got settled in for the night. “Just… thinking…”

“Yeah, I thought I smelled something burning,” quipped James, the joke surprising Lance enough that it snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Asshat.”

“You think I don’t know what it looks like when you start to spiral McClain? Because I do- and there are too many people I don’t want to piss off that would definitely be pissed at me if I let you. So… how was your day? Light up the leg yet?”

“I’m… pretty sure that’s not gonna happen,” he said on a sigh, “and I’m okay with that. I’ve got more sensation than I ever expected… and I’m _running_ in PT now! Man, I’ve missed running.”

“Holy shit! Lance, that’s awesome!”

“I still need to hang onto the support rails, and my speed is… it’s shitty… but yeah. It’s definitely running.”

“Neither Shiro or Veronica said anything! How long have you been running?”

“Neither Shiro or Veronica _know_ yet, because today was the first time I did well enough for me to call it running and not ‘three steps and a faceplant’. If I told them about three steps and a faceplant, they’d worry and fuss. So… yeah… running as of today.”

Kosmo picked up on their excitement… or he just understood what they were saying. Lance was still not convinced that language was beyond the comprehension of the space wolf. Either way, he surged upwards, making Lance squawk and flail a little under the onslaught of puppy kisses from Kosmo.

He really needed to make a point to hoard more bacon for Kosmo. He deserved all the bacon.

* * *

“So then, Matt looks Dad right in the eye and goes ‘I swear, I have no idea how she got there’! The _nerve_ that took! I mean… I’m ballsy, but I don’t think I’m ‘put your baby sister in the oven for gag photos and then deny any knowledge of it to your parents the first time you ever babysit’ levels of ballsy!”

“Wait a second,” Hunk managed through his laughter, “wasn’t he like… _nine_??”

“ _Eight!_ ” She shook her head, “Mom and Dad were just moving some stuff around in the garage- he was supposed to go get them if I cried. Instead, he stuck me in a pot in the oven and took pictures. According to him, I thought it was hilarious! Hey! Lance! I see you reaching for your phone- if you ask Matt for a copy of those pictures I will make you regret it!”

“But! Pidge, come onnnn!” He protested, “you had to be like, ninety percent _eyes_! Hunk, back me up here- how cute do those pictures sound?”

“They do sound pretty adorable Pidge. Little teensy you in a pot… super precious.”

“I was ridiculously adorable, that is true,” she conceded, “but you still aren’t getting your hands on those pictures! Matt knows better than to give you that kind of- what’s happening right now?”

Wordlessly, Shiro handed Lance his phone. Sure enough, the screen was filled with a conversation with Matt that ended in a few image files. Lance tapped one and grinned when it popped up. “I just assumed you were a bald baby! Look at those _curls_! Oh my God, you look like a little doll! Look at you in your little dress!”

“Shiro!” she screeched, throwing one of the unopened pudding cups he’d brought for Lance at his head. “Traitor!”

Hunk crowded closer, peering over Lance’s shoulder, “holy crow! Look at her chewing on that carrot!”

“I was teething!”

“I love all these pictures! Holy shit! This is almost as awesome as finding out that Keith was born with that mullet!”

“It’s not a mullet,” muttered Keith, crowding in from the other side to be able see the pictures.

“Sometimes I wonder if you even know what a mullet _is_ , Mullet.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake- I give up.”

“Calm down, Pidge,” Shiro chuckled, “I’ll get Veronica to send you the best baby Lance pictures. Then you’ll be even.”

“Hold on! You’ll _what_ now?” He turned away from the phone, “Shiro, don’t you dare.”

Pidge narrowed her eyes to glare at him, pondering, “Veronica does love to mortify him…”

“What? No. No! Shiro! You wouldn’t!”

“I would,” he answered calmly, “and Veronica will follow through for me.”

“I cannot believe you!”

“Relax, Lance, I’ve seen every family album over the years,” Hunk soothed, “you were cute! All sticky-up hair and big smiles.”

“I know I was _cute_ , Hunk,” he argued, “I was top tier adorable! That’s not the point! The _point_ is that Shiro shoul-”

“Sorry to interrupt.” Dr. Bashir stood in the doorway, “this won’t take long, and I suspect you’d rather I interrupt than wait. I was just looking through your paperwork, Ambassador McClain.”

“Is there some kind of problem?” He asked, all discussion on baby photos forgotten.

“Not a problem really,” she answered, “you just… there are multiple options here for your transitional plan, and I really need that to be one definite plan and not three possible ones.”

“Right. Right… I meant to… shit, hang on. Hey, Gremlin! Can you hang out with me during the day until the med team signs off on me being on my own?”

“Yeah, of course I can,” she answered immediately. “You didn’t even have to ask, Lance. Whatever you need. Always.”

“Cool. Thanks,” he risked a quick glance at Shiro before he spoke to Dr. Bashir. Just in case. But he was fighting a grin, his cheeks ever-so-slightly pink, and making a point not to make eye contact with Lance. “Okay,” he took a breath, trying to quell the butterflies he was suddenly swamped with. “In that case, it will be the third one on the list. That’s the plan.”

“The third one?” Shiro asked, eyebrow ratcheting up. “Of three?”

“Yeah- I’d already had two possible options on the paperwork before I knew the third was a possibility.”

“So, to confirm,” Dr. Bashir cut in, “and to make sure I’m looking at things in the same order you added them… when you are released, instead of going to your own quarters, you will be staying with the Captain? And Mx. Holt will be staying with you during Captain Shirogane’s duty hours?”

Keith snorted, trying and failing to turn it into a cough at the last moment.

“Yeah,” Lance confirmed, nodding. He was sure his cheeks were just as crimson as Shiro’s were. This wasn’t exactly how he envisioned this conversation going. But… fuck it. “Yup. I’m going to be staying with Shiro.”

“But… you were so gung-ho on going _home_ ,” Hunk pointed out, “wouldn’t it make more sense for him to stay with you?”

“Technically, I’m not allowed to spend nights anywhere but my quarters… the medward is a bit of a loophole,” Shiro explained, clearing his throat, “so I couldn’t stay with Lance in his quarters to help out…”

The doctor tapped at the screen of her data-pad, “alright. Thank-you. File is all updated…” Her smile grew, “which was the last thing I needed to take care of before I could do this!” She pressed her thumb to the little scanner, “congratulations, Lance, you are officially discharged!”

“I am?” She nodded and he practically leaped to his feet, both Hunk and Keith scrambling to accommodate his sudden burst of movement. He still needed the cane most of the time, but he could go a few feet without it. It wasn’t graceful, but he was able to reach the doctor and hug her. “Oh my God! Thank-you!”

She laughed, but hugged him back. “Don’t thank me… you worked your ass off to get here. You’ve earned it. Now- time for you to put these friends of yours to work helping you pack up so you can leave.”

He was so overwhelmed that all he could do was nod. Happy tears poured down his cheeks, his throat felt like he’d tried to swallow an ember, and he couldn’t seem to catch a breath. He was discharged. He could leave the medward. Finally. _Finally,_ after all that pain and work and fear, all those setbacks and missed goals… he could go home.

He could hear the others whooping and cheering for him, but it seemed so far away. He was just so… caught up… so many emotions rolling through him. A hand settled against his belly and another lifted his arm. Before he could really register what was going on, his face was tucked into the familiar curve of Shiro’s shoulder and he was being cradled close in arms that felt more like home than anything had in years.

“Thank-you Dr. Bashir… I think we can take it from here,” he heard Shiro say as he clung.

“I’ll let the nurses know,” she answered, giving Lance’s hand a squeeze. “Make sure you drop by to say hello after the physical therapy sessions… the medward is not going to be the same without you here.”

Sniffling, he managed to give her a thumbs up behind Shiro’s back and he heard the door as she left.

“You’re out of here,” Shiro whispered to him. “You did it, Lance. You did it.”

“I get to go home,” he answered, lifting his head to smile at Shiro.

“Yeah…” Shiro’s smile was… amazing. The amount of pride and happiness and love he packed into that smile made Lance’s head spin. “Home.”

“Sooooooooooooo…” Keith sounded like the cat that caught the canary. “Obviously one of you idiots managed to spit it out- which one of you got your head out of your ass first?”

“Shut it, Keith,” Shiro snarked, but there was no heat in it.

“Yeah… shut it, Keith,” he echoed, making no move to leave the security of Shiro’s embrace. He felt like he might rattle apart if he tried.

“Ohhhh my God,” breathed Hunk. “No way!”

“I fucking knew it!” crowed Pidge, “I just didn’t think either of you would ever clue in without serious outside interference.”

“When? Seriously, guys! When did _this_... whole… thing… When?!?!”

“According to most of the ship, they’ve been a _thing_ ever since Lance came aboard,” Keith pointed out, “but I know for a fact that they weren’t together when Lance got hurt. Watching Shiro realize he was in love with him was… unreal.”

“Yeah.. that explains... so much,” Hunk said, “Shiro, dude… no one wanted to say anything at the time… but… you got like _hella_ intense.”

“Hella intense?” Shiro echoed, incredulous.

Lance turned in his arms just in time to see the other three remaining Paladins nod in unison. “It’s been… a gradual thing, I think.” He wiped the tears from his eyes, “but… umm… since… the day you brought me snickerdoodles, Hunk.”

“I _knew_ you two were acting weird that day!”

“That was _weeks_ ago!” Pidge bounded out of her seat to thump the heel of her hand into his shoulder, “you know you could have told us, right?”

“There was already so much going on,” Shiro cut in to explain, “we needed… some time, that’s all.”

“You swear it wasn’t because you thought we’d be assholes about it?”

“I swear, Pidge,” Lance answered, making a little x over his heart. “Just… needed to keep it to ourselves for a little bit… until it stopped feeling like it was some kind of fever dream or something.”

“Fever dream? Should I be insulted?”

“Are you serious right now, Shiro? Why would you be insulted?” He twisted to look at his boyfriend, “I’m trying to reassure our friends. You think I would do that by insulting you?”

“Fever dreams aren’t generally pleasant things, Lance,” he pointed out evenly.

“Oh my God, fine! Until it stopped feeling like some kind of really great dream or something. Better? Happy now?”

“Very,” Shiro answered with a tender smile, dipping his head down to kiss him softly. “Now… let’s get you home, shall we?”

* * *

He was surprised by how much he missed the nurses in the medward once he got settled in with Shiro. Every couple of days he popped down with some treats for the staff that had put up with him and taken such good care of him for so long.

Physical therapy was as gruelling as ever, even after Polaski signed off on him returning to his usual morning work-out with Shiro, Veronica, and Giles. He’d expected her to back off a little on his cardio and weight-lifting goals for therapy sessions once she knew that he was working out on his own, but no, not Polaski.

She was bound and determined that he would be disembarking the Atlas under his own power, with no mobility aids. It was a goal he had been the one to set in the first place, but she’d really taken it to heart. So, since they were ‘in the home stretch’ she was pushing Lance hard. It was frustrating and exhausting, but she made it seem achievable, so Lance dug deep and somehow found the energy to keep up.

It helped that Ezor had started tagging along to his PT sessions. She alternated between cheering him on and goading him with comparisons to her own recovery and, weirdly, that worked. She knew how hard some of the things he was being asked to do were, from her own experience. So when she said it was possible, he believed her. She also knew how competitive he was and seemed to have a knack for knowing when he needed that extra little boost it gave him.

Going home to Shiro helped, too. Bit by bit, his stuff had migrated from his own quarters to Shiro’s until it felt like he’d always shared living space with him. The fact that they were together was common knowledge now, although Giles refused to believe either of them about the timing. He was convinced that the reason Lance had been avoiding getting entangled with any of the people who flirted with him was that he was already secretly dating Shiro when he’d taken the posting.

For the most part, people reacted as if the two of them being together was… inevitable… and maybe it was. Maybe their paths had always been leading to each other. Maybe there was some kind of destiny at play. He’d seen too many unbelievable things over the years to discount the possibility.

Whatever it was that had brought them to this point, Lance was just grateful. There was no way he would have been able to deal with the loss of his leg as well as he had without Shiro being there with him through it, without Shiro rallying the proverbial troops when Lance had been flagging and needed support. Just like how Shiro had been there for him after they lost Allura.

Shiro always protested that he didn’t do anything for Lance that Lance wouldn’t have done for any of them. He always pointed out that Lance had been the one to help him when his own guilt and regret and grief over Adam’s death had been tearing him apart. That guilt over the actions of the clone had threatened to undo him until he started pouring them out to Lance.

They took care of each other, and that was important, but that wasn’t all there was to their relationship. Lance would be worried if it was. That kind of bond could go toxic so fast if it didn’t have other things to balance it out. There were just as many happy, joyful things that they shared as there were deep, dark bonds. Lance had never seen Shiro laugh as much as he did when they were alone together.

He’d never felt so effortlessly _himself_ as he was with Shiro.

This love of theirs… it was going to stick. He could just tell.

They were less than a month from home when Dr. Bashir conceded that he no longer needed the level of support that he had during most of his recovery. It was bittersweet news, because it meant that the others could start returning to their own lives- starting with the Blades.

As James had predicted, ferreting out the information about the Zarkon Loyalists had fallen to the Blade of Marmora because of their highly specialized skillset. So, that’s what they’d been doing… and Krolia and Kolivan were confident that they knew how to best dismantle the few remaining cells.

Keith, Acxa, Ezor and Zethrid were due to leave the next day, so Lance was getting to play co-host for a big Voltron-Family gathering at Shiro’s place. It was a potluck, thank God, because there was no way that he’d have the energy to cook for that many people, and Shiro somehow managed to burn _tea_ twice since Lance had started staying with him. _Twice_. No one had any idea how he managed it.

Dinner ran late into the evening, and guests sort of drifted away back to their own quarters until, by some unspoken agreement, the only people left were the five of them. The human (mostly) Paladins of Voltron.

“And you promise? No more leaping into open space without a plan?” Lance teased Keith, “because you are too old for dumb teenage stunts like that.”

“You say that like it was my first impulse,” Keith laughed, kicking at him from his perch on the arm of Shiro’s couch.

“I say that like the person who had Red constantly freaking out in my head that I was going to jump into open space _like you_. You traumatized your Lion Mullet, can we try to avoid doing more damage?”

“It was kind of your _thing_ ,” Hunk pointed out, “that and splitting us up.”

“Hey! I split us up because I knew we could all handle ourselves if we needed to and Voltron couldn’t be everywhere at once… but the Lions could be in five times as many places as Voltron.”

“It is a tactically sound decision,” Shiro said levelly, “unless Volron was _needed_ and the Lions were scattered across galaxies.”

“I’m not trying to second guess Voltron decisions, you guys,” he laughed through his protests, “I just want hothead here to promise not to jump into open space! That shouldn’t be such a hard sell, Keith!”

“Fine! I promise, unless I’m absolutely certain it is the only way I’m surviving, I won’t jump into open space. Alright?”

“Swear it on, Kosmo,” Pidge demanded, making Keith gasp in outrage. “It’s the only way I believe you!”

Lance could swear he heard Keith growl, but he did it, muttering his oath so softly they could barely hear him.

Hunk seemed to sense that they needed a shift in topic, so he asked about the specifics of the mission Keith had taken on.

“The… incident… was meant to be a bluff,” he explained, “make it look like there were so many of them that they could afford to throw dozens of people at a single target. They weren’t expecting air support… or a sniper as good as Lance is. They took heavy losses, and they’ve been stretched thin ever since. Mom and Kolivan have been eroding their communications for weeks, and the Blade has been taking out each isolated cluster as soon as they get cut off from the others. We are doing the same thing, basically… just… our target is the hub for the whole organization.”

“You trust your intel?” Shiro sounded worried. Lance slipped his hand into Shiro’s lacing their fingers together. He knew he hated it when Keith took high risk assignments, even though he had faith in his abilities. Keith was really the only one of them that still ran headlong into danger, so he got the lion’s share (haha pun) of Shiro’s worry. It used to be pretty evenly split between all of them.

“Kolivan trusts it,” Keith answered, “and Kolivan is not someone who is easily duped.”

Shiro nodded, tugging Lance a little closer. “Krolia wouldn’t sign off on Keith going unless they’d ruled out any possibility of it being a trap, mi cielito. You know that.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right,” sighing, Shiro shook his head. “Sorry Keith… I’m hardwired to worry about you. What’s your plan for approach?”

Lance had heard this a few times already. Shiro wasn’t the only one comforted by plans- Veronica and Acxa had been running through the plan for a few days now. He let his mind wander a little, just soaking up the fact that they were all together tonight and trying not to think about how that was going to change in the morning.

It had been a while since he’d had to deal with the hollow feeling of being seperated from them. He’d gotten used to that little ache being alleviated by the presence of the other Paladins. Eventually, he’d get around to asking them if they had the same sensation, or if it was something he felt only because of the marks Allura had gifted him with when she’d blended their quintessence. She was the one who’d been tied to the Lions, after all, their life-forces connected by Alfor before his death.

When they were all together like this, he could _almost_ pretend that he could feel the little hum of his connections to his Lions. The cool, soothing presence of Blue and the eager heat of Red almost like ghosts in his soul. His memory of it must be fading, because the thrum of energy he felt now was… different. Bigger somehow, but… far away… and familiar in a vague way.

Shifting, he cuddled into Shiro’s side, completely distracted from the conversation of the others. Shiro released his hand to play with his hair, pressing a little kiss to his temple as he talked with the others.

That little thrum… pulsed.

It pulsed and Lance felt warmth fill that hollow spot, slow and steady.

It settled into place lazily, sinking through him and making his skin tingle.

“Lance?”

“Mmm?” he blinked drowsily at Shiro.

“Lance… your eyes…” His hand cupped Lance’s face, “do you guys see that?”

“They’re glowing!”

“Holy shit! Lance!”

“Is he… connecting to Red?!?”

“That’s not the only thing glowing…”

_~Atlas~_

Oh… He got it now. He could feel Atlas… like when they’d formed Voltron and fought together. He’d felt Atlas in the connection back then, too.

“S’Atlas,” he breathed, “I feel Atlas… like… home.” Smiling, he tried to explain, “not like… mmm… I feel Atlas like I felt Blue… after. When I was Red’s Paladin…”

“You’re bonding to Atlas?” Shiro asked, panic edging into his voice.

“Mmmm… no…” The dreamy sensation retreated, “Atlas is yours. Always yours. This is… like an echo of the bond between a Paladin and their Lion, soft and distant."

“That’s how Black felt… after...” Shiro stroked his cheekbone with his thumb, “are you okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, “I’m fine… I think Atlas was just… saying hi.”

“Guys!” Pidge interrupted, “look!” She yanked at the hem of his pants, making his leg lurch awkwardly to one side.

“Ow! Just because it doesn’t feel the same as my natural leg doesn’t mean I don’t feel _anythi- oh my God!_ ”

“It worked!” Pidge nearly tackled him; her hug was so enthusiastic. “It really worked! I was starting to worry!”

“It’s glowing,” Shiro murmured, tightening his own hold on Lance. Within seconds, Hunk and Keith piled on, quite literally, all five of them toppling sideways on Shiro’s couch.

“My leg,” Lance laughed, blissed out, “I can feel it! Like, _properly_ feel it!”

“Your quintessence… it accepted it as part of you!”

“Guys… I don’t think that’s quite right,” Hunk said, “okay, hear me out. So… Atlas, right? Shiro and Lance… when Allura… when she saved you… and then… Shiro, your arm is powered by the gem from her crown… and Lance… your marks. Atlas, your leg… I think… it’s Allura… or her quintessence, anyway.”

“Your eyes aren’t glowing anymore,” Keith pointed out, “can you still feel Atlas?”

He took a breath, tried to focus. That little _gap_ in his soul was… still there, but tiny. God, it was so tiny now. He could feel something warm and golden filling it in. “Yeah,” he nodded, “I still feel Atlas, but not as strong as before. Just… quiet. Almost like… I don’t know how to describe it. Just… that hole, you know? The one where the Lions used to be… it doesn’t feel empty anymore.”

They all stared at him. No one said anything for what felt like a long time.

“You feel a hole?” Pidge asked eventually.

“Yeah… not like a painful one. Just… Okay, you know that feeling that would show up when the Lions were unresponsive? Like, a little hollow spot where they should be? Like that.”

“How long have you felt that?” Hunk prodded, “just since you got hurt, or…”

“No… it’s not an injury. It’s more like… homesickness. Ever since the Lions left.” He sighed, “it gets smaller when I’m around you guys. Even just one of you… but the more of you there are the smaller it is… and now… it’s barely there because… Atlas. You guys don’t feel it?”

“I do,” Shiro answered, “not the same, but I know what you mean. For me it’s like… static… like a speaker with power, but no sound being sent to it and the more of you that are here, the less static there is. But… just you guys, not the Lions.”

“It’s gotta be Allura’s quintessence,” Keith insisted, “Hunk, you were onto something. It’s the only connection that you guys have that the rest of us don’t. Allura saved you, she used her own quintessence to do it. Then the jewel from her crown… and the marks. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“Lance? Can you do something for me? Try to talk to Atlas,” Pidge squirmed out of the tangle of limbs, which triggered a chain reaction, both Hunk and Keith untangling themselves as well.

Cradled against Shiro’s chest, still kind of reeling from everything, Lance tried to remember how it felt to actually communicate with his Lions and then tried to replicate it. It felt clumsy and unfamiliar, and the impression he got back was decidedly one of _tolerence_ not the acceptance he’d come to expect.

But it had worked, sort of. So, he tried again- asking, as best he could, why he could feel Atlas now, why he missed the Lions in a way the others didn’t.

Blue had communicated in images and impressions, gentle nudges toward the actions he should take. Red in bursts of strong emotion that felt like a game of ‘hot and cold’. This was different.

This felt almost like knowledge just _appeared_ in his mind, like he’d always known it… despite the fact that he could remember _not_ knowing it.

“Her gift,” his fingers lifted to the marks on his cheeks, still glowing a soft blue, “she… tied me to them… like her father did for her. I… I can call them back, if they are needed… this was how it felt for her.” He twisted, locking eyes with Shiro, who had heard him rage against the world because he didn’t understand _why_ Allura would brand his grief onto his face. “She… she entrusted me with the Lions… Shiro, she wanted to make sure we were _safe_... she trusted me to know when we needed them…”

“She saw greatness in you, Lance,” Shiro answered, “you knew that already.”

“We all knew that,” Hunk said, smiling softly.

“She had high standards,” Keith pointed out, “and she loved you.”

“She knew you’d be watching out for us, Lance. It makes perfect sense that she tied you to the Lions.” Pidge punched his shoulder, “so no more almost getting yourself killed. We need you, dumbass.”

“I love you, too, Pidge,” he answered, reaching out to muss her hair and earning a couple of half-hearted slaps to his wrist. “I love all you guys. Thanks for being here for me… it really helped.”

“I can stay, if you need me to,” Keith said, shocking him, “Acxa can run the mission. I don’t have to be there.”

“Fuck no,” Lance answered, “I’m good. Really. Show those assholes what happens when you target helpless people on Voltron’s watch.”

“You’re sure?”

“Guys… seriously. I’m okay. I’m- _we’re_ good. I’m not alone. You have lives to get back to. You were here when I needed you to be… I can’t keep you away longer than that.”

He could feel Shiro smile against his cheek as he kissed him softly. “Lance is right. He’s out of the woods. He’s through the worst of the recovery. You’ll only be a vid-call away, and we are almost back to Earth. You can get back to your regular lives and the work you are doing.”

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t go all work-a-holic on us,” Lance teased.

He didn’t even have to look to know that Shiro had rolled his eyes at that, “smartass.”

“Maybe… but you love me.”

“Yeah, I really do.”

“Yup- that’s definitely our cue to leave!” Pidge stood, brushing at her pants, “after we send them off in the morning, I want to run a couple of diagnostics on that leg.”

“You got it, Pidge,” he answered, snuggling deeper into Shiro’s arms.

“Breakfast in my quarters?” Hunk climbed to his feet, “I’ll make french toast.”

“I love french toast,” said Keith, “just us? Orr…”

“Bring James and the girls,” Hunk answered easily, “and I’ll invite Coran. We’ll send you guys off right.”

They were still making breakfast plans when the door slid shut behind them.

“We should clean up,” Lance sighed, making no move to leave his boyfriend’s arms.

“I’ll clean up tomorrow,” Shiro insisted, “it’s been a long night, especially for you. Time for bed.”

“Aye, aye Captain,” he answered with a cheeky little salute.

“Come on, Ambassador.” Laughing, Shiro stood, carrying Lance into the bedroom easily. They moved through their bedtime routines in companionable quiet. He was so much more exhausted than he’d realized, barely managing to keep his eyes open long enough to crawl under the blankets and wrap his arms around Shiro.

“Love you,” he mumbled sleepily, “an’ you got my title wrong… s’Am-Badass-Ador, remember?”

“This again?” Fingers threaded through his hair, soft and soothing, “I love you, too, Am-Badass-Ador McClain… happy now?”

“Mmhmm… very.”


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse into what the future holds for Shiro and Lance.

"New appoos, Papi!" announced the toddler as she wound around his legs shaking a plastic shopping bag.

"She was so excited to get new magnets," Krolia explained, smiling indulgently. "There was a bit of an issue though."

"Oh?" He racked his brain trying to figure out what he could possibly have forgotten to explain to his daughter before the outing.

"Mmm... nothing too serious during a dress fitting, but it might be a bit of an issue if James or Keith hear her telling people the weddings are 'scary spensive' at the actual wedding."

He snorted, not quite able to stifle that laugh, but quickly schooled his expression into one of concern. "Mmhmmm..." His daughter was pushing at the cuff of his paints, laughing whenever she succeeded in exposing any of the blue glow. "Noa, precious, Papi doesn't need any more tattoos. Maybe Chi-Chi wants some? Shiro??? Mi cielito, can you come get her?"

He could hear the familiar stride of his husband coming down the small hallway from the bedroom. "Noa! You look like a princess!"

"I know!" She squealed, jumping up and down and pointing excitedly to the fancy curls and little tiara she'd come home in.

"Come here and let me see!" Shiro scooped her up and cooed appreciatively until he managed to turn his attention to the adults. "Everything go okay, Krolia?"

"Apparently," Lance said, as calmly as he could, "Noa has taken to telling people that weddings are..."

"Scary spensive," Noa finished for him distractedly. Her little eyebrows were furrowed but she was smiling as she stuck her brand new magnets all over Shiro's emitter casing.

"Well, I mean... she's not wrong. Ours cost us an arm and a leg," Shiro said levelly.

"Nice!" Not breaking eye contact with the less-than-enthused Krolia, Lance reached out to give Shiro a fist bump for that delivery of their _signature_ joke. "It's true. One arm and one leg before we even got to the altar."

"We'll talk to her," Shiro assured, settling his floating hand against the small of Lance's back, "make sure she knows not to say that the day of the wedding."

"Thank-you." Krolia reached out to boop Noa's nose, making her giggle. "Grammy had a lot of fun with you today, little one. Have fun with your new tattoos."

"Kay!" Noa chimed, followed by a very dramatic display of blowing a kiss and it being caught by Keith's mother.

"Thanks for doing this," Lance said, "I don't know where the time went. All the days just blend together... and then suddenly the wedding is in a week and she hasn't had a hair test or gotten her dress altered."

"It was my pleasure. James’ family is... lovely..." she trailed off.

"They are... uh... very detail oriented," Lance replied, breaking out his best diplomacy skills. Who would _ever_ have predicted that James was the laidback, less image conscious black sheep of the Griffin family?

"And... uh... yeah, I got nothing. They are high strung, perfectionist nightmares."

"Shiro!" he gasped playfully, pretending to be scandalized.

"You said it, not I," Krolia laughed as she waved and ducked back out the door.

"Darling?" Lance asked, "I know my brain is mush from the colicky newborn thing... but… one more time... how did I marry _you_ and end up with Krolia as a mother-in-law?"

"Keith's pretty much my brother," Shiro said with a shrug, "I guess that means I get Krolia as a bonus Mom. A badass, awesome, happily babysits with no notice, bonus Mom. C'mon, let's spend some time with our princess before her brother wakes up."

As if on cue, an outraged wail drifted down the hall. Lance sighed, "why does he hate sleep? Sleep is amazing!"

"Kai'zwake," Noa chirped helpfully.

Lance smiled, kissing her on her little pink cheekmark, "Kai's lucky he's so cute, right precious?"

"Uh-huh... Look! Chi-Chi got new appoos!"

"I sure do," Shiro agreed, and as Lance went to collect their son, he could hear Shiro and Noa discussing the newest additions to the collection of 'tattoos'. They hadn't wanted their kids to be afraid to touch their prosthetics, so they gave her magnets to decorate the metal with. Lance's tended to be hidden by his pants, but Shiro wore his proudly and it had become a common topic of discussion when Noa was tiny. Now half the ship collected little touristy magnets to give to the Captain's daughter.

Kai was crying so hard his little fists shook. It shouldn't be cute, but somehow it was _adorable_. "That's it," Lance cooed, "roar, little lion prince... summon the help."

Gingerly, he unzipped the sleep sack and gathered the distraught baby to his chest. Immediately, tiny fingers and toes grasped at his shirt- Lance would never actually _risk it_ but he was pretty sure he could completely let go of the little guy and he’d stay put, just clinging to his Papi’s shirt. Kai hiccuped and settled down, luminous gold eyes peering up at him, all serious and calm now that he could hear Lance’s heartbeat. "There we go... that's better, huh? Let's go find Chi-Chi and Noa and get some snuggles and some milk! Won't that be nice?"

Shiro already had a bottle warmed up for them when they got to the living room. Lance cleared away a couple of stuffed space caterpillars and sank into the couch to feed the baby. Shiro settled in beside him and curled protectively around their son even as he worked on a puzzle with their daughter, his floating hand maneuvering the puzzle pieces to her delight.

This was far from the life he'd imagined for himself the first time he'd set foot on the Atlas as the Red Paladin of Voltron. He'd lost a lot over the years, but he'd gained... so much, too.

Allura’s loss was a soft pain he’d learned to live with, comforted by the fact that she was part of every reality she’d restored, so in a way, she was still with them, just… out of reach. The rest of the team he'd thought he'd spend his life fighting beside were scattered across multiple star systems, but they were still just as important to him. The fighting had stopped... for the most part… and he might be a non-combatant now, but he was still working to make the universe a better, safer place.

Just... instead of a sentient robot Lion and a bayard, his arsenal consisted of knowledge and charm… and Allura’s gifts. He could feel the faint thrumming Atlas in his soul, content with its role as protector, happy to keep the peace and ready and willing to work with the Lions again if it should ever be needed.

And instead of the family he'd pictured- faceless and vague, he had... _this_ little chunk of heaven:

Noa…  
A beautiful, weird, smart little half-Altean firecracker of a daughter...  
Kai…  
A gorgeous, cuddly, cranky little Galran son...  
And...  
Shiro...  
His best friend, BAMF Captain of the Atlas, and beloved husband.

The Atlas was his home. It was a ship: both steady and constant, _and_ ever-evolving with crew changes and guest contingents and near-constant travel.

Simultaneously familiar and brand new.

It was still the Atlas...

... and it was his _home._

_~Fini~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you so much for sticking with this story all the way to the end! 
> 
> This story idea was born in a late night conversation with a friend from a Shance discord server I am on and the Shance Love Bang was the perfect opportunity to tell it. I was expecting it to be a long-ish fic, but I was not expecting it to almost triple the minimum wordcount for the highest teir of the bang!
> 
> The aim was for this to be a darker Shance story than I usually would write and I didn't want to shy away from the ups and downs of recovering from a serious injury and a traumatic experience. It didn't quite turn out to be the story I initially pictured, but I'm pretty pleased with how it actually unfolded.
> 
> Thank-you to all the people who helped me brainstorm and gave me feedback and encouragement as I wrote, to the mods for their patience with how long it took me to complete it, and to Alexa for being the catalyst for the idea in the first place.
> 
> Comments are (as always) greatly appreciated! I try to reply to all of them.
> 
> -Ebh


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